Warriors
by Ridley C. James
Summary: Mac's sole ire was for the damn Twinkies. He stomped the unopened pack, grinding sponge cake and cream into the blood splattered floor of the convenience store as he followed the stretcher toting his partner towards the red-lighted ambulance waiting for them beyond the shattered door. It was not the way he'd planned for them to spend Memorial Day.
1. Chapter 1

Warriors

By: Ridley

A/N: This was supposed to be posted yesterday, but I totally ran out of time. I can't begin to put into words the gratitude I have for our service men, women, and dogs, as well as those they leave behind. This is just a small thank you. Mind you, I understand most service men and women, loved ones of those fallen, may celebrate this day in vastly different ways depending on their experiences, but I hope this pays some homage to what we, and they most importantly, honor on Memorial Day.

RcJ

"The way of the warrior is resolute acceptance of death." –Miyamoto Musahshi

"So, Dingdongs? Or pork rinds?"

Angus MacGyver rolled his eyes at the older man who was in the aisle across from him, holding up two packs of Tasty Cakes in one hand, a gigantic bag of fried pig skins in the other. He tilted his head, frowning. "You know that's the equivalent of posing two similarly distasteful forms of torture to a prisoner. Correct? Both are going to equal slow death, or in your case, possibly, with your advanced age and questionable cholesterol numbers, a quick one."

"So both." Jack Dalton's child-like grin lessoned only slightly under the playful insults of his best friend. "Has anyone ever told you, brother, that you could suck the joy out of a circus tent filled with flying unicorns and cotton candy pooping puppies?"

"My _partner_ might have pointed that out a time or two." Mac grabbed the six pack of beer he'd been searching for and closed the cooler door. "Seeing how he's the one adult I know who still believes in unicorns and the only person who would ever consider eating some sugary confection that had passed through a mammal's lower intestines as fun."

"Don't forget I've seen you eat caviar a plenty." Jack pointed a finger at Mac as he joined him in the last drink aisle. He was struggling with the load of snacks which Mac could now see also included beef jerky and a giant pickle in a plastic bag. "And let's not forget that nasty forest graft stuff which is basically fancy goose liver."

"You're seriously comparing Beluga and Foie gras to Tasty Cakes and Big Red's deep fried pig parts?" Mac shook his head, holding back a smile of his own as he scoured the next cooler for a couple of waters and some Gatorade. It was a hot day and if they hit the beach after their visit with Jack Dalton Sr.-as was their tendency and tradition-they'd need the extra hydration along with the sunblock and the beach chairs he'd stashed in the back of his Jeep in anticipation of the road trip.

"Only a fool would compare a working class man's Smorgasboard with your snooty fufu food, Angus." Jack flashed another grin. "Apples and oranges, brother. But I do seem to recall a scrawny nineteen year old who would do just about any grunt level job there was to get his hands on a pack of Twinkies back in the sandbox. You know Coop used to keep them stocked up just to get you to do his dirty work."

"You know a Twinkie's shelf life is pretty much unsurpassed." Mac frowned, working hard to keep a straight face. His stomach might have betrayed his countenance of disgust by grumbling at the mention of his old, completely horrible, favorite. "Like French fries from McDonalds."

"Duuuude...We should so pick up a couple of large orders of _those_ on the way to see the old man." Jack tightened his hold on the stash of snacks they'd be lucky to finish even if they stayed until sunset. "Maybe a couple of Quarter Pounders, too. You know there was a time when I might have given my trigger finger for a late night run to the Golden Arches."

"I'll consider it." Mac grabbed the Gatorade and the water. Fast food was a sacrifice he'd never thought he'd miss until he was in Afghanistan eating cold beans out of a can. Little Debbie snack cakes and Cheez-its were also on that list of foods he never gave much consideration, but that hadn't stopped him from craving them like a full blown addict once they were impossible to get. He lifted a brow at his partner. "That is if you grab me a few packs of those Twinkies just for old time's sake."

"Right." Jack's grin turned smug. "What better way to pay honor to our fallen brothers than to munch down on all the things we were deprived of during our service."

"Exactly." Mac jutted his chin towards the front of the store. "You head that way and I'm going to pay for a couple of bags of ice to fill the cooler."

As they parted ways, Mac couldn't help to think how he and Jack had celebrated the last five Memorial Days in pretty much the exact same manner. It was the only other day, besides Cairo Day-which Jack also avoided going to work albeit for completely different reasons-that they set aside with a sort of reverence. It wasn't like Phoenix shut down for either day, but Jack took a hard line on keeping them sacred, so Mac did as well. Matty hadn't even balked at the time off, obviously grateful both he and Jack were once more on board.

Instead of treating it like a solemn event, Mac and Jack chose to share a beer with Jack's dad-another serviceman who had understood on their level what the holiday meant. They of course reminisced about the men and women they'd known, those who'd made the ultimate sacrifice, the ones who didn't make it home. Sometimes they reached out to old buddies who like them had beat the odds. Cooper, Pete, Boxer and Carlos. Mac had made a call to Pena's wife and daughter the night before. He knew Jack had talked with Hammond and the mother of one of his old Delta crew whom Mac had never had the privilege of meeting. But mostly, they made sure to enjoy the things that the sacrifices of their friends had ensured, the freedoms and fun they often took for granted. They also celebrated what they _hadn't_ lost during the war. Namely, each other.

There had been more than a few close calls, and harrowing times when Mac was certain he and Jack might end up as one of those remembered fallen. Jack especially. He sometimes seemed to embrace the idea of sacrifice with unmatched fervor, taking to the life of a warrior, courting death around every corner. It was, Mac liked to think, hard-wired in the Delta. A facet of Jack's being, just like his ability to love big, that went beyond any battlefield. In fact, it carried over into their work with Phoenix, shading his job as Mac's protector, and could even show up in the most mundane of places- like a Grab It and Go Mart on a bright sunny Monday morning in May.

Contrary to popular belief, most armed robberies occurred not at night or in the wee hours before dawn, but in broad daylight. They were often acts of desperation. The perpetrator completely willing to risk being seen and apprehended for the chance to procure whatever they seek which will get them what they need-which is often fast cash to score drugs they are out of their mind to have. Mac quickly assumed all these factors were probably statistically true of the brown-haired, twitchy teen with the faded, torn jeans who'd just pulled a small caliber handgun from the confines of his dirty Under Armor hoody.

"Empty the cash drawer into one of those bags and hand it over nice and slow." He told the cashier, who couldn't have been much older and had a similar wild look in her eye now, although probably from fear and not a side effect of the throws of withdrawal. Twitchy turned the gun on Mac, who had just placed his items on the counter. "You keep your hands on the beer, man. Where I can see them."

Mac figured the kid assumed he was the only one in the small shop, unaware that Jack had been hidden from view when he kneeled at the end of the chip aisle to reach the individual packs of Twinkies. Mac didn't even need to turn and look to know his partner had probably forgotten said snack cakes now and was completely focused on the threat at the front of the store.

"There's not a lot here," the cashier stammered, almost apologetically as she rifled through her meager cash and coins. "We don't keep large amounts of money on hand. I haven't been open that long. The manager takes…"

"Just give him what you have," Mac said calmly, hoping to keep both of them focused on the counter so Jack could remain unnoticed. "It's alright. Just do as he told you."

"How about you keep your mouth shut and add your wallet to the loot, dude."

"Whatever you want, but I'll have to move my hands. You told me not to do that."

The would be robber looked from Mac's hands to his MIT shirt, flannel, and khaki pants. The dislike was not veiled and his next words were snarled. "Just give me a reason to put a round in you, geek."

In hindsight, Mac was convinced this would have been the point at which Jack would have taken Twitchy by surprise. He'd overcome him and easily disarmed him, despite not having a weapon of his own on him, his tucked away under the passenger side of Mac's jeep. As luck would have it-all bad by the way-another person chose that precise moment to enter the store.

An older woman, intent on paying for her gas because the card reader wasn't working on the pump. Mac would find that out later as she repeated her story over and over again in a state of shock to the police officers who showed up on the scene, ahead of the ambulance. He knew he shouldn't have seen her as the reason everything went to hell so quickly, but he couldn't quite stop himself from blaming her terrible timing when she noisily strode through the entrance, her disgruntlement about poor service already on her lips before the overhead bell even rang.

"Jack!" Mac had only a moment to hope that the nervous gunman would not pull the trigger out of instinct, or fear, or startled reflex, as Jack came from behind a life-size cardboard display of some NASCAR driver promoting Mountain Dew to tackle the red-faced woman waving her credit card. Mac prayed as the two collided he'd have time to jump the kid from behind before a shot was fired. Neither of those scenarios would come to pass.

The sound of the gun seemed deafening. As did the screaming. Both the woman's as she and Jack crashed into a stand holding newspapers and that of the teen girl behind the counter.

Mac blocked out the sound, tackling the assailant to the ground. They hit with a jarring thud, Mac reaching for the robber's wrist, slamming it against the floor with such fierceness that he heard bone crack. The gun skittered free, sliding beneath the display of Cheetos. He'd managed to jerk the struggling teen's arm behind his back but the boy was wild-bucking, twisting and thrashing beneath Mac. He managed to roll over, one of his haphazard swings clipping Mac across the mouth. The punch's form was poor, but it was fueled by sheer adrenaline and primal panic.

It hurt like hell, stunning Mac just long enough for the kid to throw him off. A mad scrabbling followed with Mac grabbing one foot, only to take a well-placed Converse to the throat as the teen slid free. He vaulted the hurdle that was the tangle of Jack and the woman, slamming through the glass door with such impact that it shattered.

"Jack." Mac coughed, still gasping for breath. He crawled towards his partner, not caring for the moment that he'd let the culprit flee. He blinked hard when he noted the explosion of black and white newsprint was splattered with tiny drops of red. His hand came to rest by the bag of pork rinds Jack had dropped, his other, gripping his partner's shoulder. "Jack!"

"I'm okay," Jack growled, slightly breathlessly. Mac wanted to believe him. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, already having noted the blood quickly staining the back of Jack's white tee shirt.

"Help me." The woman moaned from somewhere beneath Jack's bulk.

"Sorry, mam." Jack drawled, his accent always thicker when he was tired or hurt.

"Easy, Jack." Mac gripped his friend tighter as Jack tried to push himself up and off the woman. Mac helped ease his best friend over, careful of the entrance wound high on Jack's left shoulder.

"Is she okay, kid?" Jack blinked blearily up at his partner, worry evident among the pained grimace. Mac had to stop himself from rolling his eyes, not truly giving a damn about the woman especially after realizing there was no exit wound to be found, the front of Jack's shirt remained clean. That meant the one and only bullet was still inside Jack, had possibly left a wake of devastation in its trajectory.

"I'm okay?" It was more question than certain proclamation as the woman gingerly sat up. She was unsteady and her hand, still holding the credit card, shook as she reached up to touch her forehead where there was a small gash, more than likely compliments of the magazine rack.

"Let me help you." The cashier was beside them now, offering the woman help up.

Mac glanced at her, not missing the way the teen's hands were also trembling or the bright red flush along her cheeks that came with extreme duress. "Did you call 911?"

"Police are on their way, an ambulance, too."

"Sonofabitch." Jack swore, bringing Mac's focus instantly back to him as the older agent reached a hand to cover his chest. He squezed one shoulder gently, trying to offer what little comfort he could while also keeping Jack in place.

"Stay still." Mac looked around, noting that a slowly growing puddle of blood had pooled beneath Jack, gathering around a lone pack of snack cakes. The small rivulet of red was quickly making its way towards Mac's knees so he slid out of his flannel shirt, bunching it up to use as a pressure bandage. He battled for a calm he most certainly didn't feel as he slid the make-shift dressing beneath his best friend. Jack bit back on a groan, and Mac gave him a shaky grin. "You're about to smash my Twinkies, big guy."

Jack half laughed, half gasped, his face pale and beaded with sweat. "Damned if I want to do that, bud." His eyes fluttered. "I know how you love those..."

"Damn, Jack, stay awake." Mac tapped Jack's cheek, not daring to shake his friend.

"Hard to breathe," Jack made out, his hand coming up to his chest.

"I bet. Taking a bullet tends to knock the wind out of a guy, even a Delta like you." Mac tried to make light of the quickly spiraling situation. The wound was high on Jack's back. High enough that it might have injured his scapula or ribs. He quickly calculated the chance of a penetrating lung injury, the sucking wound it could create. That led to him predicting the length of time it took for a lung to collapse, whether from oxygen filling the cavity or blood, and just what a pneumothorax or a hemothorax might mean for Jack.

"It's okay, bud. I'm fine. We're both fine." Jack must have taken Mac's silence for panic, because he forced his eyes open, lifting his hand. His mouth twitched into a slight smile. "I now that big brain is calculating all the ways to make a bore needle out of a Pixy Stick, but let's leave the medical stuff to the professionals this go around."

"So, you're breathing, it's good?" Mac gripped his partner's hand, unable to hide the slight tremor in his voice, nor the fear which he knew was etched onto every surface of his face. He would not lose Jack to some stupid hold up in downtown LA. Not when they'd survived the hell that was Afghanistan, Iraq, and six kinds of sand in between. Not when he'd just gotten him back from the nightmare Oversight had caused, and especially not now after Mac had developed a much deeper appreciation for the man who had been his family for the last seven years. Skilled soldiers had been no match for Jack Dalton, no two bit punk druggie was going to be his downfall.

"Good enough, bud…" Jack squeezed Mac's hand when the blond opened his mouth to protest. "Hear that…" Mac heard the sirens now, the cashier dashing past them on her way to the door. "Heroes have arrived," Jack muttered, his eyelids fluttering.

Mac knew the paramedics would stabilize the patient, prepare Jack for transport to the hospital where the trauma surgeon would use honed skills to save his life. Police would secure the scene and take steps to see that the bad guy was caught and made to pay for his crime. But Mac wanted to tell his best friend that the real hero was still the one bleeding out on the ground, currently scaring his boy to death.

Instead he grinned down at the older man. "Civilization has its perks, Tombstone."

"Damn straight, Shepherd," Jack snorted, his attempt at a smile twisting into a grimace which had Mac's heart hammering in his chest. "Like burgers and Tasty Cakes."

Mac nodded wordlessly, glancing up just as three police officers entered in a blue blur. He hoped like hell that the EMT's weren't far behind.

To be continued…


	2. Chapter 2

Warriors

By: Ridley

A/N: Sorry I didn't make my self-imposed Friday deadline but I hope this Sunday morning post is kind of the same-it is still technically the weekend. First, thank you for the very generous and kind reviews to the first chapter. I am sorry I haven't been able to respond to each one individually as this is my crazy time at work. My lovely beta says this part is a little short, but she gave me the thumbs up to go ahead and post anyway. Please note that this story takes place after a tag I haven't written yet. Lol. It's coming, I promise, but I have sprinkled in some teasers. Also, slight spoilers from the finale if you haven't seen it and don't want to know the big reveal. Read with caution.

RcJ

Mac's fears about the bullet's trajectory had been realized during the ambulance ride. Jack's ability to breathe had quickly deteriorated, even after the patient had been placed on his side and the wound bandaged. The paramedics administered oxygen but found it necessary to do the needle decompression that Jack had joked about. Mac had seen their medic, Pete, do similar field triage for a chest injury once, to a civilian that had been hit by shrapnel, but watching it happen to Jack was a whole different experience-one Mac couldn't quite get out of his head. Jack, although semi-conscious at that point, must have sensed his partner's fear because he'd quickly tossed out their typical gauntlet, this time breathlessly swearing that Iron Man could easily take Dr. Strange, hoping Mac's expected rebuff would distract him from the very real horror of what was happening around them. Mac had moved Jack's oxygen mask back in place, managing an eye roll even though their game did little to alleviate his worry, especially when Jack had finally succumbed and passed out.

He glanced down at his wrist, expecting to see his father's watch strapped there. He'd stopped wearing the timepiece after the sordid truth had come out, not selling it on online as he'd threatened to Riley before Oversight's identity had been revealed, but instead quietly placing it in the same shoebox where he kept his mother's old hospital bracelet and Harry's favorite pipe. Jack had pointed out that the watch did Mac very little good beneath one of the loose floorboards in his bedroom, but he couldn't bring himself to wear it any longer. Besides, phones had a plethora of uses, even telling time.

One glance at his cell told him Jack had been in surgery for over an hour. He gripped the flannel shirt he'd been holding since the paramedic had handed it to him when Mac had climbed into the back of the rig, trying to stay out of the way, but still maintain eye contact with his best friend. It was the one he'd used to try and stop Jack's bleeding and the ruined material, was still damp and sticky in his hands.

Mac thought about tossing it but found he couldn't seem to get his fingers to cooperate, as if it were some kind of physical link, the only one he'd had with his partner since Jack had been whisked into the ED. Even during the paperwork and questions from admitting, Mac had kept hold of the shirt, a tangible reminder that Jack was still with him. He wasn't going anywhere.

It was childish and irrational, and maybe a bit superstitious, but Mac would toss it when he got to see for himself that Jack was okay. The surgeon he'd spoken to had been confident that he could remove the bullet and repair the damage that had been done by the projectile which had lodged in a rib after passing through the top region of Jack's lung.

Another glance at the phone, showed a new message from Bozer, a picture of him and Leanna at his parent's in Mission City where they were attending the Bozer's annual welcome to summer cookout, both holding huge burgers and sporting matching grins. Mac pinched the bridge of his nose, wondering if he should have at least let the rest of his team know what was going on. Riley was also away, taking advantage of the long weekend to spend time with Billy. Jack had received a check in from her on Saturday, letting them know she and Billy had made it to the cabin Mac had offered up, much to Jack's horror, the idea of a romantic getaway still too much for him to stomach. Mac had received only one other snarky text, alerting him that he should have warned her about the squatters at his grandfather's place. Apparently a family of raccoons were living under the porch.

Even Matty had taken a rare opportunity to get away, proving to Mac that the last few weeks had taken their toll on the director. At the least, he could give them a few more hours of 'normal'. When Jack was out of surgery, he'd make the decision to call them back, and even harder, decide whether to call his partner's grandparents.

"Angus?"

The voice was unexpected and instantly chased away the thoughts of JP and Beth Dalton, the effect much like having a bucket of ice water tossed on you during a hot July day.

"What are you doing here?" Mac blinked, placing the cell phone in the empty chair beside him. He glanced around, noting the same faces he'd taken in when he'd purposively chosen a seat as far away as he could manage from other visitors. Finding his father towering over him was surreal to say the least.

"Matilda called me." James didn't wait for an invitation, instead claiming the chair in front of Mac. There was a small coffee table filled with magazines in between the two leather seats and Mac had an odd moment of dejavu. When he was a boy, his father had been called into Mac's school after an 'incident' with another child had landed the younger MacGyver in the principal's office. He'd been just as unhappy to have his dad show up that day as well and if the frown on James's face was any indicator, he was of a similar mind.

"How did Matty know I was here?" Even as Mac asked, he realized he was naïve to think their director wouldn't have some failsafe in place for when one of her team was suddenly entered into a medical database. She really did have eyes in the back of her head and her ear constantly to the ground as Bozer was fond of reminding them. For all Mac knew, he and his friends might have been tagged with secret embedded trackers. He wouldn't put it past the evil Nurse Sally to be in collusion and slip something in while giving one of her notorious necessary vaccinations.

"One of her employees was shot in a convenience store hold up, Angus." James leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he regarded his son with a look of clear disappointment. "It would have been nice if Phoenix had been informed by one of their own of what transpired."

"You mean I should have called Oversight?" Mac arched a brow, his temper flaring at the dressing down. He was no longer a child who could be reprimanded. "That's funny because I've never had his direct line in all the years I've been employed. I thought he only dealt in 'need to know' information."

"Things are different now, of which you are well aware. I think I needed to know my son and his partner were involved in a robbery, especially since they both work for me."

"It appears you were informed." Mac still didn't understand the dynamics of his father's and Matilda Weber's relationship. Jack had some theories, ones Mac didn't want to spend too much time entertaining-for good reason. No kid wanted their parent in some scandalous secret love affair with their boss. It was like having your dad date your principal. Awkward.

"I would have rather it came from you, son." James voice lowered, gentled even. It didn't have the soothing effect he knew the man was going for. In fact, the term 'son' had the opposite result.

"Why did you come here? You could have called me." James MacGyver's presence suddenly felt entirely too much like an unwelcomed intrusion. Mac gripped his flannel shirt, the slight smell of copper making his stomach churn. His father's face reflected a hint of tired defeat, made more impactful by the fading shadow of purples and yellow bruising around his left eye. It had been weeks since Jack had punched the man before their exfi had showed in Peru, and Mac couldn't help but to feel a slight perverse pleasure that his father still donned the marks of that moment. After all, James had been the reason they'd ended up hostages of a drug cartel and in the hands of a madman. Of course Jack hadn't hit James MacGyver for leading them straight into Walsh's web for the second time, but instead it had been the result of James daring to put his hands on Mac.

Oversight ducked his head, giving an exhale that spoke to him not liking to explain his actions, neither to a son, nor an employee. "Honestly, I thought you might want some company. I don't know about you, but hospital waiting rooms are not the easiest places for me to be." He raised his gaze to meet Mac's once more, a flash of something unfamiliar and hopeful brimming in his father's gaze as if he expected they might bond over memories that were better left unmentioned. "I know Bozer and Ms. Davis are out of town. Matilda, too. I didn't want you to be alone."

Mac might have laughed at the irony of that last statement. His father had no problem letting Mac think he was alone for fifteen years, but Jack was right. If Mac was going to move forward, if he truly was going to give working for his father a genuine effort, then he would have to let go of the past. No matter hard that might prove. Mac swallowed the bitterness he wanted to let spew, letting loose a sigh instead.

"I appreciate that, but I'm not alone. Jack's here."

James made a point of glancing around the room before letting his eyes settle on the bloody shirt Mac had twisted around his fingers. "Not currently."

"You know what I mean." Mac narrowed his gaze at his father, who looked all too keen to give a quick reply which might have been the equivalent of carelessly tossing kerosene on a campfire.

James seemed to think better of it. He gave a slight shake of his head, before gesturing to his own face. "Dalton drove home just what a presence he is in your life. He's got your back. I get it. You don't necessarily need me at this point. I'm lucky to be allowed to breathe the same air as you. He's been more of a father to you than I have and I damn well better not forget it." Mac recognized the words Jack had yelled at the man as Carlos had practically drug him off James. His father tilted his head, catching his gaze. "But you have to admit, and I think your _overwatch_ would agree, you're pretty much on your own at this juncture, in a situation that is less than pleasant. I don't think Jack would want that, especially if…"

"Jack is going to be fine." Mac wanted to add that his father had no idea what Jack would want, but then maybe the man had been rather enlightened by their physical encounter. Mac had been there for the fight, which was entirely one sided. It was mostly his fault, after all, although Jack had taken full blame when exfil arrived and Oversight was still trying to get up off the ground.

Mac had said something- something possibly unforgivable and completely brat-like to his father- and James had snapped. He'd grabbed Mac by the front of the shirt, jerking him up from where he'd been sitting next to Carlos. Mac wasn't sure if his father would have struck him, he seriously doubted it, but maybe he'd been asking for it just a bit, poking the tiger every chance he got. The tiger never saw Papa Bear coming. From what Mac understood, Jack and James had also engaged in a very long discussion in Oversight's office days later before Jack had agreed to come back and work for Phoenix. Hiring Jack back of course had been a condition of Mac returning, but Jack had made sure it was on his own terms as well.

"I don't doubt that," James said, breaking Mac's reverie. The older MacGyver glanced at his watch. "The last update I received from my source in the suite said the surgery was going as expected and the damage was not any worse than they had anticipated."

"Wait. _You_ got an update?" Mac didn't know whether to be pissed or grateful. He was listed as Jack's next of kin and hadn't heard one peep since the surgeon briefed him before going into the OR. It shouldn't have surprised him. Oversight was akin to the great all knowing Oz, which was ironic considering Mac's last Halloween costume.

"About twenty minutes ago. Don't worry. It sounds like Dalton is once more defying the odds and proving he is the invincible soldier he believes himself to be."

"Jack doesn't think he's invincible," Mac reconsidered his father's new perspective on his partner. Apparently, he still didn't understand him at all. "Expendable, yes, replaceable even, but not invincible."

James raked a hand through his hair in a very familiar manner. "Then maybe he and Walsh are truly cut from different molds, because Jonah was nothing if not cock sure he was undefeatable."

"If what we went through in Peru didn't prove to you how different your partner and my partner are, then you really are just as arrogant and self-centered as you continually prove yourself to be."

"I know you're hurting so I'm going to excuse that blatant disrespect." James leaned forward in a way that was perhaps meant to point out once more that Jack wasn't anywhere in sight this time. "I understand I screwed up with Walsh and my mistake nearly cost you, Carlos and Dalton your lives. Believe me, I get it. But I lost something over there, too, in that damn jungle in case you've forgotten. Whether you believe me or not, Jonah meant something to me. I wasn't lying when I said he was my best friend. He was the closest I came to having a brother." James nodded to Mac's shirt, then met his son's gaze once again. "You should understand what I lost."

It wasn't that Mac didn't believe what his father was saying, only that he'd come to understand that James MacGyver's capability for friendship, or any deep meaningful relationship for that matter, might have been terribly skewed. Comparing his and Jonah's relationship to Mac and Jack's was like using the same measurement tool for the depth of water and the strength of steel. There was no relativity. Whether James' difficulty forming connections merely stemmed from his vast intellect, or his wife's death, maybe a combination of both, Mac wasn't sure.

"Jack is nothing like Walsh," Mac responded simply, unsure of what else to say. He could have gone on to tell Oversight that Jack Dalton was worth ten thousand Jonahs, that choosing between them was like choosing light over eternal darkness. That if Mac hadn't valued human life so highly, he might have made a point of sharing that even choosing to save his robot Sparky over the likes of a man like Jonah Walsh could be justified, but Mac had never been one for needless cruelty, cutting sarcasm when needed yes, but never cruelty.

"I see that now." James gave a tired, but weary smile and Mac felt his heart stir for the man he was trying so hard not to empathize with. "Although if I'd realized that pertinent fact and their distinction eight years ago, I might have chosen someone else entirely to watch over you in Afghanistan."

Mac's resolve hardened and he glanced away for a moment. The idea his father had a hand in the relationship he had with Jack was still a bit of a bitter pill to swallow. "Jonah told me that he helped you with that as well."

Told, _taunted_ , it resulted in the same effect. Mac had felt sick when the big man used the information with all the effectiveness of a cattle prod. The fact that Walsh had his dirty little fingers on all the strings being pulled in Mac's life had added insult to injury. Jack had made it a point to throw out a Nana Beth-ism, declaring that all that proved was that God could use any evil and ugly thing the devil could conjure to put one of his own grand plans in place. In pure Jack fashion, he'd gone on to point out that Walsh was about the ugliest, evilest creature he'd run across, not to mention being a traitor and a backstabber, which had only made an already dire situation much worse, but had effectively drawn Jonah's attention from Mac and showered Jack with the full brunt of his rage.

"It's true he helped me cull the original list." James did not appear surprised Mac was in on the dirty truth, nor nearly as apologetic as Mac believed he should have been for allowing Walsh to perform such a task. The dismay must have shown on his face, because James frowned. "He was a trusted confidant, Angus. My partner. And despite how he turned out, he was a brilliant strategist, and he understood men's motivations and their most basic nature in a way I have always lacked. It's true Jack Dalton was in his top three picks, but he wasn't Jonah's favorite, even though he agreed Dalton had the most skill with a sniper's rifle and probably the highest drive to protect, he had someone else in mind."

Mac felt both relief that Jack hadn't been Jonah's top choice, and slightly offended on his partner's behalf. He frowned at his father. "Then what made you pick Jack?"

"Honestly, I saw in his records that he'd just lost his dad." James shrugged, when Mac gave him a look of incredulity. "I read his psych evals and realized he didn't really have any other strong family ties besides his grandparents. He'd always wanted children but…"

"Meaning he fit into your formula." Mac grit his teeth, remembering that Jonah had laughed about the actual scientific data his partner, Mac's brilliant father, had compiled and used to compute how to choose perfect pairings of scientist and soldier. It all fed into what Jack termed 'The Wonky Winter Soldier Agenda'. "You fed his stats into your computer and picked the person to pair your son with?"

"No." James shook his head. "I mean yes, I did look at the data, but Matilda is the one who convinced me, even after I pointed out that Dalton's time was almost up in Delta. She promised Jack was one of the most dedicated, loyal, upstanding agents she'd worked with in the CIA, that he would give a hundred percent to any mission, and wouldn't give up on it until it was completed, even an assignment he might not be particularly eager to participate in."

"You didn't think Jack would like me." Mac folded his arms over his chest, biting back on his desire to declare he wasn't just some mission to Jack. He was family. And _family_ was what Jack Dalton was ultimately committed to, what drove him to the lengths he'd go, not the damn mission.

"Actually, that was based on personal experience. Jonah said if you were anything like me then Dalton would want to throttle you within seconds of meeting you. He bet me that I'd be going back to his top choice."

"I can't say he was wrong about that," Mac conceded, begrudgingly. He and his partner had not had the smoothest of beginnings. "Of course I didn't really care for him either. Special Forces in general were an enigma to me."

"Same here." James nodded. "But I trusted my stats and more importantly Matilda's advice. After what happened to Pena, I needed you to have someone I could trust to watch after you. I might not be able to ensure your safety in such a place, with so many random variables, but I could at least give you the best person available to watch over you after you chose to put yourself in such a position."

It had taken a while for Mac to realize he could only do his job well, if he indeed had someone watching his back. At first he looked at Jack like a necessary tool, almost like an extension of his bomb suit or his EOD robot, but before Jack was ready to head back stateside, Mac couldn't deny he'd grown attached and scarily dependent in a way he never expected or even truly understood. He frowned at his father, something the man said clicking.

"You knew about Pena?" Mac wasn't sure why he was even surprised by that small detail at this point. His father could tell him he'd hired Nikki to be his girlfriend and Mac wouldn't have batted an eye. It seemed his father had spies everywhere, even in hospital operating suites.

"Of course I knew about Alfred. He kept me updated on your progress. He was amazed at what a quick study you were, how you took to dismantling bombs as if you were born to do it. His death was one of the reasons I decided to get more hands on about the trajectory of your career. I won't even pretend that I wasn't completely thrown when Harry called me with the news you had enlisted."

Mac could understand his father's dismay. Angus MacGyver had never been much of a 'joiner'. As a child, he was never one to gravitate towards groups, even when encouraged to do so by well-meaning teachers or coaches. Pack mentality had not been in his nature. In true introvert fashion, although not necessarily shy, Mac tended to lend towards one person, or a couple of people who proved true.

"I mean when you got into MIT at sixteen, I was sure that you were finally on the right path," James continued.

Bozer had been Mac's go to person for years, but upon arriving at MIT, Mac had met Frankie and Smitty. He almost felt like a member of an alien race, finally returned to its homeland. He'd been, for the first time, accepted and 'normal'. He saw no need to expand his horizons or increase his friend group beyond the small scope of people with which he held common interest. This tendency for lone wolf status was probably one of the chief reasons that caused his grandfather, Harry, and pretty much everyone else that knew him well, such concern when Mac at the age of 18 announced he was enlisting in the military.

"It completely threw me for a loop when you willingly walked away from a place that so obviously suited you and your talents." James voice held the same incredulity that many of Mac's peers had, along with a bit of anger.

Mac had always been an individual. Strong-willed and admittedly incredibly self-possessed, he was not one to demure to others line of thinking. Conform and capitulation were not typically in his vocabulary. He was an outside the box kind of guy. Self-reliant. Stubborn. Harry, a former soldier himself, had -not so subtly-pointed out that the Army was not a place for individual achievement or avant garde constructs. On the contrary, it strove to bend men's will to a mutual goal, to mold all the working parts into one finely tuned machine. He'd gone so far as to describe it as a 'Hive Mind' institution, obviously hoping to dissuade his one and only grandson from making a grandiose error.

"I wanted to save lives." Mac said, quietly. "As much as I loved MIT, all my work there, my research, it seemed so pointless when compared to what was happening to our soldiers." Mac looked at his father. Jack once told him that his family never understood what he did, but he only hoped they'd someday understand why he did it. Mac understood what his partner had been saying in a new way as his father's clueless face showed no hint at revelation.

"Your grandfather felt responsible for putting ideas in your head, with all his stories." James waved a hand in the air, totally missing the point Mac was trying to make. "I couldn't say I didn't hold him partially to blame. The idea of you risking everything for some grandiose notion."

Harry had pointed out that as the one person in their family who had served, he understood better than most what Mac was signing on for. He begged his grandson to reconsider, or at least graduate college first. Harry worried, for good reason it turned out, that Mac would clash with the very infrastructure that comprised the military agenda, and that he had no idea the compromises he'd be called upon to make-his aversion to guns and violence at the top of that list.

There were indeed moments when Mac believed he'd made a huge mistake. As if the little voice inside his head- the one which had never steered him wrong before and that seemed totally on board with his plan to completely revamp the military with his insight and genius- had somehow pulled some cruel joke and purposively misled Mac. Turned out that drill sergeants did not like to be challenged like the professors and teachers Mac had known. They saw most helpful suggestions and even demonstration of knowledge as a direct attack on their authority and manhood. There was zero interest in new ways to increase productivity and if one offered such it was paramount to a mangy, lowly, Omega wolf pup challenging the Alpha leader. Punishment was swift and severe, meant to teach quickly the order of things. For the first time in Mac's life, he proved to be an extremely slow learner.

"I couldn't wrap my mind around what you were willing to sacrifice with such a fool-hearty, impulsive decision." James was looking at Mac, but Mac had a feeling that this conversation was merely remnants of a much older one he'd had with someone else, perhaps Harry or maybe his best buddy, Jonah. Mac felt as if he were being talked at instead of talked to.

"I heard all about the sacrifice I was making. Trust me." The word had come up repeatedly, again and again. Mac heard it preached from everyone around him, not just Harry. He understood the definition. It meant to give up something one considered valuable in the service of others. Mac was willing. Or so he thought.

Freedom cost, Harry warned repeatedly. Sometimes it was an arm, a leg, maybe both. It could be an eye or hearing, the ability to walk and run or make love to the woman you loved. It took peace of mind, leaving anxiety and fear in its wake. The latter was something Mac would only understand to be as debilitating as a physical loss after returning from Afghanistan, but a risk he was willing to take albeit naively nonetheless. Harry preached that freedom cost lives. Not only yours but those you'd come to love. Sometimes, Mac's grandfather had predicted correctly that seeing your brother's sacrifice was far worse than making one yourself.

"But you rushed headlong into it anyway." James gaze was intense now, fully focused on his son as if this were the one thing that didn't compute, the impossible equation. Mac found himself looking towards the doors that separated him from the belly of the hospital, where Jack was being worked on, almost as if he expected another rescue because he didn't want to tell the truth, and risk seeing disappointment in his father's eyes.

"I thought it was the right thing to do so I did it, consequences and collateral damage be damned." Mac held his father's gaze, unwavering, effectively turning the tables. Like father, like son. "You should understand that better than anyone."

James looked a bit like he did after Jack punched him the first time back in Peru and Mac shamelessly admitted it felt good. That was until his father's face darkened, his eyes reflecting not anger at having his own impulsive decisions challenged, but remorse and worse yet, pity. "And how did that work out for you, son?"

Mac licked his lips, thinking about all that Afghanistan had taken from him, but also what it had given. Having his stalwart beliefs challenged at every turn, his moral compass spun, was not something Mac had truly considered. Funny enough, brilliant eighteen year olds are blinded by the false belief that at eighteen one knows everything. But it was the willingness to be completely okay with death-not just yours but your teammates- that tormented Mac the most. Mac could not make peace with the one thing a warrior must understand and accept-death is undeniable and to some degree must be welcomed. Especially in light of feeling like a part of something for the very first time, to have been given, not just Jack as a brother, but an entire pack of them in the form of Coop, Pete, Boxer and the others in Jack's unit. But to be asked to relinquish them, to offer them up for the cause…Mac didn't do that well.

It took Pena's death to open his eyes to the truth of what he'd gotten himself into, but it was being partnered with Jack that drove the point home without mercy. For every life saved, one or twenty could just as easily be given. An unborn daughter could lose her father in an IED explosion. A guy could lose his best friend in a botched convenience store robbery.

"Better than it did for you." Mac finally answered, meeting his father's unwavering gaze. "Instead of losing a son, I got a brother out of the deal."

James rebuttal, if he'd managed one, was interrupted by the buzzing of his phone. He reached for it, distractedly, pulling it from the pocket of his leather jacket. And Mac knew….

His heart faltered, stuttered like a failing generator might, his breath catching in his lungs. Suddenly he felt as desperately unable to breathe as Jack had in the ambulance and he wondered if his father might need to rig something to stab him in the chest, allowing life giving measures. All of this came about instantaneously as Mac immediately recognized his father's grim countenance even if he hadn't seen it in almost twenty years. It was the one that said things had spun out of James MacGyver's tight-fisted control.

It was a face that Mac had kept locked away deep down in his psyche, one that had dawned terribly on his father the day they'd walked together into Mac's mother's hospital room to find it empty. James MacGyver had let go of his small son's hand and a five year old Mac had gazed up questioningly. Just as he did now.

"Dad?" He hated how even he could hear the fear and vulnerability in that one word-the pleading- how it seemed to leap from somewhere deep inside him without his command or volition.

"It's Jack," his father answered. "It seems a fragment of rib broken off by the bullet nicked a blood vessel. They're having a hard time stopping the bleeding."

"What does that mean?" Mac asked the same question he'd managed all those years ago when his father had knelt in front of him, gripping his slight shoulders too tightly as he'd choked out that his mother was gone and wouldn't be coming back. The explanation was both ambivalent and final. Mac could only pray as his dad's eyes met his, the man's reply would not once more destroy the fragile world Mac had come to know as his own.

To be continued…


	3. Chapter 3

Warriors

By: Ridley

A/N: Thank you so much for the kind reviews! I never meant this story to be more than three chapters but it looks like it is going to take four! One more to go. I missed my Friday deadline again but not by much. I hope that counts. For those of you who have asked, the story I elude to in Peru hasn't been officially written yet! It is on my list! I am just tossing in a few spoilers here and there. I hope that isn't too confusing. I have never experienced the kind of abandonment that Mac has. Although I have worked with clients with similar issues I don't pretend to understand the deep feelings of betrayal and hurt such an act inspires. I hope I do this situation justice, and apologize if I don't get it exactly right. Thanks to Mary for all her guidance and additions!

RcJ

"That means," James spoke slowly, succinctly, as if explaining a difficult concept to a child, "That the arterial bleeding will temporarily become the surgeon's focus. I imagine they will either cauterize, ligate or patch the bleeder then…"

Mac's abrupt standing thankfully cut off his father's literal answer to the question he'd posed. He didn't know what he'd expected the man to say, but should have anticipated it would not have offered any of the things he was so desperately asking for when he'd unwittingly opened himself up for another disappointment. He raked his free hand through his hair, not caring about the dried blood that still stained his fingers. For a brief moment he closed his eyes.

At this point he'd much rather have had one of Jack's euphemisms, about how things always looked darkest right before the dawn, or some joke about neither of them being able to do things the easy way, and how it must seem that they had some kind of competition to see which one could confound the medical staff the most. Jack, if he could have, would have teased that he obviously wanted to keep the big headed doctors humble and if he were going to pay a fortune for treatment, he wanted to get the most bang for his buck.

James, however, didn't get it. In his defense, Mac knew he was trying to answer the damn question to the best of his ability, and comparing his father to his best friend wasn't fair. But just like you didn't tell a five year old that their mother's heart and kidneys could no longer sustain her viability, you didn't talk about cauterizing and ligating when one's brother had taken an obvious turn for the worse. The only thing Mac wanted and needed to hear was that it was going to be okay. That Jack would be fine. His father had never been one for platitudes.

"Son?"

"Please don't call me that." Mac took a breath, stopping his pacing only long enough to send a seething glower at the man. He looked towards the doors separating him from his partner, considering his options. The bloodied shirt still tightly grasped in his hand.

"You don't like Angus, and I'm sorry but it seems strange to call you _Mac._ " James had also stood, his face perplexed as if he just didn't understand why Mac insisted on being difficult. It was a look Mac recalled from childhood, one that appeared anytime Mac challenged his father's order of things. "That's not your name."

Mac merely managed another glare, one that did nothing to deter Oversight, who actually took a step closer to him, blocking his path to the door.

"If you're thinking of going in there, I'd reconsider. All that will get you is thrown out of the hospital. Next of kin or not, you bursting into an OR suite to offer some insight is not a scene that will be tolerated. Even I don't have that kind of pull." James frowned slightly.

"I wouldn't do that," Mac snapped, twisting his figners in the fabric of the shirt in his hand. Contrary to what his father believed of him, Mac wasn't recklessly impulsive, nor did he think he was so smart as to offer some guidance the doctors might need. Mac just wanted to be near Jack, for his best friend to know he was there, that he needed him to be okay. Those were obviously foreign concepts to James MacGyver, who was perfectly content staying behind the scenes without anyone being the wiser.

"From some of the reports I've read of your and Dalton's antics I wasn't sure. It seemed better to head off any irrational behavior. More than once I've had to calm a Chief of Staff after Jack's threats to dismember orderlies when they tried to bar him from your room and there was the time he shoved a doctor who questioned his position in the ICU at your bedside." James ran a hand over his hair, exasperation coloring his features. "I hand-picked our current medical staff at Phoenix with you two in mind and now that I have been around Agent Dalton during one of his tirades when he believes you are in danger I realize I might not being paying them enough."

"Of course Nurse Sally is your fault," Mac muttered, gripping the back of a chair closest to him. He was finding it harder to breathe than it had been a few moments before. Mac also noted his racing thoughts, struggling to keep them in check instead of wasting energy defending anything he and Jack might have done in the past, especially when Mac knew any discretion on his partner's part had been committed with only the best of intentions.

"Are you okay?" James asked, sharp eyes tracking Mac's every move.

"Did…did your source say anything else?" Mac gestured to the phone still in his father's hand. He brought the other hand to his chest, realizing a moment too late that it felt as if an elephant had suddenly thought him a great place to take a massive load off.

"No. Just what I related." James returned his phone to his jacket, still watching his son closely. His frown deepened as he took another step close to Mac. "It may be a while longer. I think you should sit down."

Mac barely held back on saying what he thought his father should do at that moment, an instruction which he had pointed out to Jack on occasion was physically impossible for a human to manage, but a suggestion his partner still liked to toss out to people when they really pissed him off.

The grip on his arm had Mac jumping, not realizing he'd once more closed his eyes in an attempt to calm his breathing. His adrenaline was fueling the panic that had already primed his parasympathetic nervous system. He logically understood that his amygdala and parts of the midbrain were kicking in, sensing a threat when there truly wasn't one-sans the very real danger of losing Jack. He'd come to understand his intellect did nothing to dissuade a panic attack, in fact, it was more of a handicap.

"Is this some kind of PTSD episode?" James demanded in a whispered tone as he none too gently pushed Mac into one of the chairs, glancing over his shoulder as if someone might be watching.

Mac didn't' refuse the seat but spared another incredulous look for his father. _Really_. If Jack would have been there, this would no doubt have warranted another teachable moment, which was how he had taken to describing the beat down he'd given James MacGyver a few weeks earlier.

As it was, James's insensitive and ignorant response worked almost as well as Mac walking himself through a series of exercises that would keep him grounded in the present moment. Indignation refused to let his stressed mind wander into the landmines that littered his traumatic past. It seemed repressed anger could be useful. Sort of similar to employing nitro to blow out an out of control fire.

"Do I need to get a doctor?" James face was now unreadable. Mac wasn't sure if his father was genuinely worried about him, or anticipating the scene he might cause.

"No!" Mac managed through a gasped breath. He pulled out of his father's grasp, tightening his hold on the bloodied flannel shirt. His knuckles turning white.

"You're pale, and sweating. This looks very much like the beginnings of an anxiety attack." Of course his father would argue the point, determined to be right, Mac's feelings be damned.

To keep from rolling his eyes, Mac squeezed them shut. He tried to conjure Jack's voice, the one that would tell him to just keep breathing, nice and easy, to ignore his pain in the ass absentee parent. His partner would have no doubt put a hand on the back of Mac's neck by now, his thumb brushing against Mac's hair where it met the collar of his shirt in a motion that would have given Mac something physical, tactile, to focus on.

He'd no doubt have spoken gently-a surprising talent Jack had considering his ability to be the loudest and most commanding person in a room at any given moment. He'd have told Mac to go to the _lab_ -which is what Mac had termed his mellow zone-a place he could mentally slip to that was far preferable to any horrid flashback. Jack called his the cockpit and it had been him to teach Mac how to conjure the image of a place he felt completely in control and competent. A place that made him feel at ease and proficient. It was a tool that Mac took to easily, one that suited him far better than counting breaths or mindless meditation.

The thoughts of Jack soothingly avowing that this was merely a bad moment on the tail end of a really shitty morning had Mac bringing his spiraling emotions into check. The last thing he wanted was to lose his shit in front of his dad, to look weak in front of Oversight, but he sure could have used backup right about then. His throat tightened, not from a strangle hold of anxiety, but a rush of realization that any chance of that had been taken away by one desperate strung out junkie in a convenient store.

Mac doubled over slightly, his hands braced on his knees. Jack's reassurances, his promises that everything was fine, that Mac was okay, weren't what did the trick to snap the younger man from a tailspin,but rather it was his anchoring presence that was the key. Jack Dalton could pull Mac through anything with all the ease he might have guided a plane through an unexpected storm. Jack knew Mac as well as he did the instrumental panel of every bird the Army had commissioned in the modern era. James MacGyver might as well have been an inept passenger pulled from coach class and asked to land a Boeing during a blizzard for all the help he was.

"Dalton's psych evals aren't the only ones I've read," Oversight continued on, clueless as usual. He'd taken the chair next to Mac this time, his knee bumping against his son's. "When you came back from Afghanistan physically unharmed, I hoped that…"

"That what, Dad?" Mac opened his gaze, losing the tenuous grasp on Jack's imagined presence letting his father's audacity fill the place of calming techniques. He was practically quaking, partially from the residual adrenaline still sparking through his synapses and mostly from the realization Oversight had access to all his personnel files, including those from the Army. It was one thing to have your employer know all the skeletons in your closet, but a completely different one when your estranged father was studying intimate details. Mac clenched his jaw, trying to channel Jack once more. "That I wasn't emotionally damaged? Outwardly whole, but someone broken on the inside?"

"That's not what I meant." James pinched the bridge of his nose, wincing slightly. Mac hoped it was still sore from his and Jack's altercation. When he met Mac's gaze, Oversight's dark eyes were earnest, almost pleading. "I just wanted you to be okay. You have a gift, Angus. One that I didn't want to see destroyed or limited by what you experienced during your time in the Army."

"I'm no more valuable than anyone else that served." Mac fought to take a deeper breath, the steel bands around his chest easing slightly. He wondered once more at how his father actually saw him. If it was as a person, or if he was merely a realization of his father's desire to pass on what he saw as superior DNA.

"But you're _my_ child, and that makes it seem as if you are more valuable than the entire armed forces."

The words were the right ones. They should have stirred something, like the first time Mac heard Jack call him 'his boy'. The term had caught him off guard and even though at the time Mac's temper had flared seeing as how Jack was warning a punk soldier not to give Mac a hassle, it had also brought a lump to Mac's throat along with a quick, undeniable rush of affection and something akin to pride. Such a declaration from a parent was meant to make a kid feel at the least special, important. But when deeds spoke to the opposite, it was hard to take such an affirmation at face value. Instead of inspiring confidence, it planted seeds of doubt.

Jack, however, let his actions broadcast how he felt. Jack would have traded kingdoms for Mac, of that Mac had no doubt. It was a saying he had heard Jack's Nana Beth use once, possibly something out of The Bible. But it had always struck him as a true description of Jack's dedication, one that often went far beyond his duty to watch out for Mac. He always put Mac above everyone else. In the desert, on the mission field, and in everyday life.

Mac would have been lying to himself if he denied what it meant to him that knowing when push came to shove, he would always come first with someone. It was both a small thing and a huge thing to know that there was one person who would never ever abandon him. Jack's actions proved his feelings beyond a shadow of a doubt. James MacGyver had never responded in a manner that would even suggest he considered his son a prize, or a gift. In fact, judging only by actions, it would seem as if Oversight had as much regard for any number of employees as he did his only son.

"I know the sentiment is a little late…"

"That may be the understatement of the year," Mac muttered, not deterring his father in the least.

"I wanted to come to you after you returned from Afghanistan," James continued. "To explain that I was behind the job offer with DXS."

"Is that so?" It was almost as if the man were reading Mac's thoughts. Mac pursed his lips, concentrating on the feel of the flannel beneath his fingertips as he tried to imagine the validity of what his father was saying, and how that might have changed things for them both, although at this time it was a moot point. "Jack made the deal to get us out of Afghanistan. He, Hammond and… _Thornton_." Mac dropped his chin to his chest, the intricacies of what his father had done once more weighing on him.

"Thornton worked for me at the time." James's pride in the fact he'd pulled off such a feat was undeniable. Mac wondered if the man even considered how manipulative he had truly been.

"And Hammond?" Mac didn't know why it even mattered if the general had been yet another puppet in his father's grand performance, but it did. After finding out his own grandfather had been complicit to some degree, Mac wanted Hammond to remain in the clear more than ever.

"No. I get the impression Perseus Hammond doesn't play well with civilians. I let him go through his own proper channels to secure your and Jack's timely dismissal."

"Only Jack wasn't released from duty and Hammond's going through proper authorities cost my partner a lot." Mac had to work hard not to think about Iraq, the mission that had almost taken Jack's life.

"Not as much as it could have." Mac didn't miss what his father was eluding to, that he had somehow made things easier than they might have been. "I'm not trying to explain away the past, but I want you to know that I didn't want you to be alone. Jonah convinced me that the last thing you needed after the war was another damn bomb going off in your life and that's what my revelation would have been. It would have blown your world apart. Again."

"I had Jack," Mac said, thinking Jonah was maybe smarter than he gave him credit for. "Bozer, too. I wasn't alone." He held back on saying that he didn't need his father then, and he sure as hell didn't know if he wanted him now.

"Jonah pointed that out as well." James nodded, his gaze far away. "He said Dalton would know how to help you better than I would, after all, I was a man you neither knew or trusted, as well as one who had never seen combat."

"It sounds like you had plenty of reasons to turn a blind eye." Mac felt another flash of irrational anger. Since finding his father, his emotions had been a rollercoaster of extremes. Relief. Doubt. Mistrust. Hope. But anger had surprisingly been the most prevalent. The unexpected mission to Peru had not helped matters. For the most part, Jack had tried to be the voice of reason, but even he had his threshold. It seemed his attempts at spinning what James had done in the best light possible-completely for Mac's sake-had begun to grow old with each new misstep that Oversight took.

"I'm not trying to give you excuses, Angus. I'm being honest."

"I don't need your honesty. Not now." Mac shook his head, standing again. He gestured to his father's pocket. "If you want to help me, see if you can get any more information about Jack. If there's something else that can be done…another doctor you can call in. Maybe Doc Carl should come from Phoenix, or…"

Mac's suggestion was interrupted by the entrance of a man in surgical scrubs. He searced the room until his eyes landed on Mac, or more specifically James.

"Family of Jack Dalton?"

"That's me." Mac made a deft step around his father, circumventing Oversight's chance to interject or take over. "I'm his family."

The nurse nodded, quickly joining them. "I was asked to come tell you that Mr. Dalton's surgery is over and that he's being taken to recovery."

"So, he's okay?" Mac asked, his knees weak with relief.

"The doctor will be able to fill you in on all the details," the man hesitated, his eyes flicking between Mac and James, "This isn't exactly protocol so I'm sure someone will be to get you soon."

"Thank you," James said, dismissing the nurse with a look that had the younger man turning quickly and scurrying back towards the double doors. His gaze found Mac's and held. "I told you Dalton would pull through."

Mac let out the breath he'd been holding, his eyes once more going to his watch free wrist. He glanced towards the chair where he'd left his phone, moving to pick it up without another glance towards his father. There were people he needed to alert now that he had some good news to share, family he needed to reach out to, none of whom were currently in the room.

To be continued…


	4. Chapter 4

Warriors

By: Ridley C. James

A/N: I never meant for this to conclude as a Father's Day fic as it started out on Memorial Day weekend, but funny how things turn out. This chapter is dedicated to all the dads, and the ones who stand in for them when those with the biology don't quite meet the mark. Also, this is my first attempt at a James MacGyver POV. We have only had him one episode, so a lot of this is Mac-style. Meaning I improvised! I truly hope they explore his character a little more in season 3! Thank you to all the generous reviews and messages, and a big thanks to Mary, who took time to look this over before her vacation.

RcJ

Jack Dalton was G.I. Joe come to life. At least that's how Matilda Weber had first aptly described him to James MacGyver.

James of course had seen the man's file by then, one of the pile that his partner Jonah had put together after Mac's training officer was killed in Afghanistan. The stats showed that Jack was an extraordinarily talented marksman and pilot, a naturally gifted leader whose men would follow him into Hell if asked, and he was not afraid to bend the rules when necessary, a trait James admired then, but would see differently when he was the man's boss.

He'd also had taken note of Dalton's IQ. Although not on his son's level, Jack was highly intelligent and sharper than the sometimes good old country boy act he feigned. The gleam in Matilda's eyes had revealed more than Jonah's report when James had asked her to look over his potential choices. His former CIA handler's obvious approval had not gone unnoticed by James. He would later peg that moment as perhaps one of the firsts of many times when he was crazy jealous of Jack Wyatt Dalton, All American Hero.

Currently, his agent looked anything but imposing and formidable, far from a lady's man. Dalton appeared younger, smaller, and vulnerable hooked up to the monitoring machines and dressed in hospital attire. It was a definite contrast to his typical larger than life persona. James found it ironic however that even unconscious, attached to wires and sporting a painful-looking chest tube, Jack was still garnering extra attention from the nurses. The young one with the name tag that read Chaney currently attending Dalton's IVs flashed James a wide smile.

"Is Mr. Dalton's son coming back soon?"

James's temper flared at the incorrect assumption, but he managed to keep from grimacing at the reference to _his_ son. He reassured himself that it was an easy mistake, especially considering the way Angus had reacted to seeing his partner once they'd been allowed into the ICU. The fact he'd not moved from his spot by Dalton's bedside since would lead one to believe the men were indeed family.

"He just stepped out to take a phone call." The truth was Angus hadn't wanted to leave Dalton. James had seen the hesitation and mistrust in the younger man's eyes. His son hadn't been able to reach Riley Davis earlier and had sent a text for her to call him when she could. When the message came in that she had talked with Wilt and needed Mac to call her back, James could see that his son was torn. Obviously not wanting to have the conversation in front of him but also not willing to leave his partner alone with James.

In the end, his desire to reassure Riley and head off any exaggerated details Bozer might have imparted had won out. James had encouraged his son to take the time to get something to drink, or at least clean up in one of the bathrooms after returning her call. He doubted Angus would take his advice and was a bit surprised his son had left at all. He forced a smile for the nurse, relaxing a little more against the back of the hard chair he was sitting in. "Trust me. I expect him back any moment."

"The doctor should be making his rounds within the hour. I got the impression he didn't want to miss talking with him about his dad." Her fingers briefly fiddled with the IV lines.

James got the impression Chaney didn't want to miss his son's return. It seemed Jack wasn't the only one who had a way with women, although Mac appeared clueless to his appeal as Dalton was the type to take every advantage. He wondered, not for the first time, if Nikki should have been dispatched to the CIA long before he suggested she be reassigned.

"I'm sure he'll be back in time to get a full report." James grit his teeth, hoping the girl finished her task sooner rather than later. He wasn't much for small talk on a good day.

"Is it true that he saved a woman's life during an attempted robbery?" Chaney asked, glancing to Jack before looking to James once more, honest awe in her eyes.

"It seems that way." James shifted his weight slightly, crossing his arms over his chest.

"Is he a police officer?"

"No, nothing so exciting," James smiled, extremely glad to impart his agent's typical cover. "He's a bathroom tile salesman."

"Then what he did is even more incredibly brave." The nurse adjusted the oxygen cannula with great care, even more enamored. "Although he definitely looks like a cop."

"That's Jack for you," James kept his smile in place, though he had the strongest urge to roll his eyes at the girl's breathless declaration and obvious fawning. "He's always putting others before himself."

"Are you family, too?" Chaney turned to check one of the monitors once more and James let his gaze go to the man in the bed.

He considered the question. Of course the truthful answer was no, and yet, he and Jack Dalton shared a stronger bond than most blood relatives if you took into consideration that they had for all intents and purposes raised a child, each having a hand in creating the man Mac had become, even if Angus was remiss to admit James had any influence. Dalton, himself had good-naturedly proclaimed that any family of Mac's was family of his, of course that had been before Mac had quit Phoenix the second time around and then the disastrous Peru mission.

"Step-brothers." The lie slid easily from his lips, but gave him a reason to be in the ICU without much need for further information. These days dishonesty was second nature. It came with the job. "Our parents married late in life. They're now retired and share a condo in Florida with their two poodles, which they spoil far more than they ever did either me or Jack."

"I'm sure they'll be very proud _and_ relieved." Chaney patted Jack's blanket covered leg, flashing James another megawatt smile. "Your brother deserves some spoiling. He's a hero."

There was that word again.

"They'll be ecstatic." James said, grateful when she turned to go. He felt a momentary wash of guilt at the realization he wasn't anywhere as relieved as he was promising his and Dalton's made up parents would be. Once more alone, his gaze quickly went back to the man in the bed. With Chaney gone the only remaining noise in the room was the constant hissing of the oxygen and the steady beeping of the heart monitor. James frowned when Jack's brows drew together in obvious discomfort, the lines deep in his almost translucent face. But Dalton didn't wake.

It wasn't that he'd ever wish his agent harm. After all, he'd saved the man's life not more than a few weeks before at great cost to himself. The decision had been easier than he imagined it might.

In fact, James could admit that he had developed a certain fondness for the bastard, begrudgingly, but still. Of course the fact Dalton had saved Angus's life countless times was part of the admiration and endearment, but aside from his role as protector and the fact as an agent Jack was undeniably an asset to Phoenix, James had discovered it was hard not to genuinely like the man. However, that was also one of the reasons he hated him as well.

With a long exhale of breath James sat forward on his chair again, his elbows resting on his knees. He had known men like Jack Dalton all his life. The kid in school who everyone naturally flocked to. The jock who could handle any ball a coach tossed his way and who seemed to come out of the womb with a natural grace and easy grin that turned the girls' heads and had teachers looking the other way when rules were broken. They were the quarterbacks, prom kings and star centers. James had tutored boys like Jack, his intellect always offering him a bit of leeway into their inner circle. It wasn't as if he'd wanted to be their friend per say, mostly content with his own company and projects. They were so different that he never expected a mutual comradery or courted such-at least not until Jonah Walsh had come along.

His and Jonah's connection and later friendship had been unusual, but not completely unexpected as they had been paired using a tried and true formula. Angus could scoff all he liked, but James and Jonah Walsh were proof that important factors could be used to determine a successful outcome. Their partnership might not have ended well-his son would probably call that another understatement of the year-but for thirteen years they'd worked and done good in the world. Of course they were no Mac and Jack.

Then again, James MacGyver had not been a young vulnerable kid when he and Jonah had met. They had not endured combat together-nor had their relationship been 'galvanized by hardships' as Dalton had so fiercely defended. James had most definitely not been in need of a father figure nor had Jonah ever been in search of a family to call his own. They were close friends, true, but he understood all too well that they had not forged a bond like Dalton and Angus. Nor, could he take the kind of credit he would like. He'd been the one to instigate their initial partnership in the Army, but it was his choice to leave his ten year old son fifteen years before that clandestine meeting that no doubt had created the space for such a friendship to grow. His abandonment had fertilized the ground that Jack Dalton had firmly planted himself in as an odd mix of older brother, surrogate parent, and super hero.

"So whether you like it or not, I am responsible for my son being in your life Dalton." James moved from the spot he'd taken up in the far corner hours before when Mac had begrudgingly allowed him to accompany him to ICU. He'd once more claimed his desire to be there was so Mac wouldn't have to be alone, but then they both knew he'd never shown much concern for such. It was Matty who'd made James promise to stay until Jack was awake, even knowing how much James detested such places and that he had no patience or talent for bedside vigils. She had been adamant that if he were going to make headway with his son, _and_ continue his relationship with her, he'd have to do so by showing Angus he was in this thing for the long haul and proving he could be the man she believed him to be. James picked up the flannel shirt Mac had left on the chair beside Jack's bed so he could claim the seat near his injured agent.

"I know you want to believe I really had no hand in it, but we both know if I hadn't been such a horrible father, then you wouldn't have been able to step into my shoes quite so easily. I mean you have your good points, but we both know you're no saint. So, technically, you owe me, Dalton." He frowned once more when pain showed again on Jack's otherwise relaxed features, his eyes moving under closed lids. It seemed the anesthesia was starting to wear off and his time for one sided conversation may be drawing to a close.

After Peru, James decided discussions in which Jack Dalton was rendered unconscious by heavy painkillers might be the way for him to go from now on out when he needed to get a point across to the man, or at least get his say in without being punched in the face. James sighed, shaking his head.

"But then I suppose in the grand scheme of things I still owe you much more." James ran his hands over the flannel material his son had been carrying around all morning. He assumed it was Dalton's considering the way Mac had held onto it like some sort of life line connecting him to his partner.

It reminded James of the sweater a five year old Mac had toted everywhere, refusing to let it go. The garment had belonged to his mother and for months after Emma died Angus had carried it with him, sleeping with it, sneaking it into his back pack for school. James and Harry had tried to no avail to ween the boy's dependence. Finally James had tossed it in the trash and considered doing such with the shirt he held now. But even as he thought about it, he knew he had no such right. He let his gaze travel back to Dalton, surprised when the man let out a low groan and moved his head from side to side.

James glanced over his shoulder, unsure if he should buzz for a nurse. Not relishing another conversation with the lovely Chaney, he stood, gripping the bed railing with his free hand. Before he could push the call button, Dalton awoke with a gasp. It looked painful and James knew from experience that coming to after surgery was never pleasant. Throw in a chest tube and things took on another level, he was certain. He figured, Dalton would succumb quickly, but the man proved just how determined he was to cling to consciousness by reaching out and gripping James hand with surprising strength.

"Mac?"

At first James was certain Dalton was still out of it, possibly mistaking him for his son in his groggy half-awake state. The dark eyes searching his face were unfocused and glassy. "It's James. Angus is…"

"Where's Mac?" This time his agent's voice was a little stronger and instead of confusion, the injured man's gaze held fear. "Is he okay?"

"Angus is fine." Once more James glanced towards the door, wishing for his son to suddenly materialize. There was a reason he was never one to entertain visiting his agents when they were injured. Vulnerability was not something he handled well.

"That's his…Is he hurt?" The heart monitor beeped faster and more erratic.

It took a moment for James to understand. Jack was staring at the ruined shirt James held in his hand. The massive blood stain was easily seen on the pale blue flannel. "No. It isn't."

"Yes." Jack bit out breathlessly, actually attempting to move himself up in the bed, though obvious pain stopped him in his attempt. "It is. What happened? Where the hell is Mac?"

James wasn't sure why he had the sudden urge to argue with his agent who had just awoken from major surgery, but he did. He hated the fact that Jack once again proved the expert on all things Angus. It was just a shirt, but James saw it as proof of how little he understood. Matilda would be so disappointed.

"You were shot." James decided on the simplest answer, one that also avoided the issue. He turned and tossed the shirt aside before Jack could latch onto it.

"I know." Dalton clenched his jaw tightly against the obvious discomfort he was causing himself and managed to make it to his elbow. He even succeeded in lowering the bed rail, as if he had escaped many of the same before, which from the reports James had received as Oversight he knew was quite possible. "I thought he was okay, but…"

"He is. Angus wasn't injured." James glanced to the monitors, not happy about the readings. He had been informed the holiday weekend had left the hospital short-staffed and overburdened with mishaps, but still wondered why Chaney hadn't appeared and how exactly he was supposed to keep Jack in bed without it turning physical.

"He's not here." Jack ground out hoarsely. breathlessly. He blinked, his eyes not quite focusing. James could easily make out the trembling in Dalton's arm, the effort it took the man to remain somewhat upright.

It was a simple statement, yet as weighted a sentence as James could recall. The words held probably a hundred experiences as well as ingrained expectations and rituals that James could never quite comprehend. The fear in Dalton's eyes had grown exponentially, brimming on what James could only describe as panic.

"He went to make a phone call." James kept his voice calm, once more calculating how to prevent his agent from escaping the hospital bed while still half out of his mind on anesthesia. Allowing Dalton to do further harm to himself would bode well for his relationship with Angus. James had promised his son he could do this one thing, and didn't want to be proved wrong by messing it up.

Jack was nearly halfway to upright, the machines more alarmed as the patient's vitals changed, when James recalled Mac's final words before leaving. "If you awoke Angus said to tell you that a black widow could easily overtake a scarlet witch. I'm not sure if that is another spider or…"

Something akin to a cross between a laugh and a growl of agony escaped Dalton as he fell back against the pillows, the adrenaline born energy surge suddenly failing him. His face, now flooded with obvious relief, was extremely pale and dotted with sweat and he was shivering slightly. He glanced at James, and James was quite certain he attempted a wink. "Our boy is full of shit, but I wouldn't mind seeing that throw down though."

"I never took you as one who might be interested in arachnology, Dalton." James glanced to the nurse call button again, concerned when Jack seemed to be having a hard time catching his breath and was quite possibly delirious. At least the machine had stopped beeping. It took a second to realize the man was actually laughing at him.

"Dude, you need to get out more." Jack licked his chapped lips, blinking when his eyes stayed shut for a moment longer. "Where did you say the kid went?"

James frowned, still not quite understanding the code he'd just relayed. "He was returning a call to Ms. Davis."

Jack's eyes opened and his scowl now matched James's. "Her name's Riley." His shallow breath caught. "Mine's Jack."

"I'm aware." James did not see the need to further confuse boundaries. His job as Oversight had already been extremely complicated.

Jack rolled his eyes. "Why are you here again, Sir?"

"You were shot in an armed robbery."

"I'm aware." Jack tossed James's words back at him. He gave a sigh, glancing down at the IV in his arm, the chest tube dangling from the sheets. He gave a low growl of what seemed to be exasperation. "I guess I'm doing okay?"

"There were some complications, but you came through in typical form." James hadn't spoken with a doctor, but his contact had been confident in a full recovery.

"I've had worse. So has Mac." Jack's jaw clenched and he blinked again. "Never pulled Oversight from his office before."

"I'm not big on hospitals." James considered securing the rail back in place, but figured Dalton wasn't in jeopardy of rolling out. He took a step back instead, folding his arms over his chest. "Should I get your nurse? You don't look so good."

"Give me a sec." Jack grimaced. Beads of sweat ran down his temple. "Not too fond of being poked and prodded…especially when I'm still gathering my wits. Mac usually holds them off. Is he okay?"

James realized this question was not about his son's physical well-being. He thought about Angus's reaction in the waiting room and weighed his words thoughtfully. "He was extremely worried about you. I've never seen him quite so out of sorts."

"I can imagine." Jack's gaze softened, worry crinkling the corners of his eyes. "He's not exactly big on hospitals either."

"Something we have in common then, although not really a point a father wants to bond over," James said. He saw Jack's mouth twitch, quite possibly from holding back on some snarky remark he would have liked to have made. The man's restraint was impressive considering the amount of drugs no doubt cursing through his system and the inhibition it should have allowed. James couldn't seem to help himself. He raised a challenging brow. "I bet you're thinking it's one of a very short list."

"There are definitely some similarities between you two." Jack smirked, albeit shakily, bringing an arm to rest gently over his side, avoiding the chest tube. James knew the man was being generous and tried to appreciate the gesture for its kindness. Jack's eyes closed briefly and then opened to cut to James. "He's stubborn as all get out that's for sure."

"Actually, that's not entirely on me." James assured, reclaiming the seat by the bed. He was beginning to understand there was a lot about Angus he couldn't claim responsibility for, his heart for instance-which was something the man in the bed had far more influence over it seemed. Jonah had made a point in Peru to acknowledge all the attributes James's son had picked up from Dalton, little daggers of truth wielded with expertise knowledge. There was a reason letting someone close to you was extremely dangerous. James rolled his shoulders, keeping his face neutral though the memory stung more than he wanted to admit. "I'm certain he inherited his incredible obstinacy and sheer force of will from his mother, along with her looks."

"I've seen pictures." Jack nodded, his breath shallow and halting. The lines of pain deepening around his eyes. "She was a stunner."

"Completely out of my league." James wasn't exactly sure why he was suddenly the one with loose lips. "I had to read the entire works of Jane Austen and memorize T.S. Elliot to impress her enough for a single coffee date."

"Knowing Mac, I'm guessing she was worth it." Dalton made an attempt at a shrug, but ended up grimacing instead. "Some of those books aren't so bad."

"At the time I would have read an entire library of romantic drivel if it had earned me more than a passing glance." James, suddenly uncomfortable with the forthrightness, raked a hand through his hair, once more surprised his son hadn't returned. For once, he hoped Angus hadn't taken his advice, and grabbed some food because Dalton was staring at him as if he'd grown a second head.

"I get it, man." Jack nodded slightly, shifting his weight with a suppressed groan. "I pretended to love Paris for years."

"The food's not so bad there." James actually smiled.

"I'm more of a steak and potatoes man, but women have a way of changing us."

"They do. Angus is proof of that."

Jack's frown deepened as if James had suddenly lost him. "Mac definitely changed my life for the better."

After that declaration James wasn't about to explain to the former Delta that what he meant was that he'd never wanted children, but that Emma had been desperate for a baby. She'd pleaded her case expertly and wielded her wiles in a way that James hadn't been able to resist. Jack Dalton already felt superior for valid reasons and James wasn't about to give him any more ammunition by admitting he hadn't ever planned on becoming a father, nor was he still completely sold on the role now. Not when Jack, who had no biological connection to Angus had so wholeheartedly embraced the role of nurturer and caregiver. They both knew there were obvious reasons James should have stuck to his resolve, the same reasons that perhaps should have prompted him to once more disappear into Oversight's office and remain there, capitulating his place to the better man. Yet, James wasn't so noble. He cleared his throat.

"Angus is the epitome of his mother, which is why even now it's not so easy for me to see him." James realized his misspeak as soon as he saw the frown appear on Dalton's face, the way his breath caught, which most certainly had nothing to do with the man's injured lung.

"Damn, James… I'm not sure how you could ever look away."

The exclamation was said softly, without a hint of judgment or any evident condemnation, but James still felt insulted.

It was ridiculous considering Jack Dalton had said so much worse. The man had called James a failure as a father, told him how he wasn't worthy to share the same air with Angus, let alone a single strand of DNA. He'd punctuated each observation with a brutal fist, and topped it off with a warning that if James so much as put one finger on 'his' boy again, there would be Hell to pay. But something about the sincere disappointment which now registered in Dalton's eyes and the confounded stare on his face stung so much worse than any blatant insult or physical affront.

"Jack!"

Angus's entrance stole any chance at a rebuttal, although unlikely James would have thought of anything fitting to say in response.

"There you are, bud." Relief and something more crossed Jack's pale face. A pang of longing lanced through James's chest, as if he were the one who'd taken a bullet.

"You're awake." Angus said as he moved past his father, with briefly a glance.

"Barely."

"I'm sorry. I just stepped out for a minute." The younger man flashed James a longer suspicious look, as if he might have done something to upset the patient. When Angus returned his attention to Jack, James did not miss the fact he reached over and gripped the older man's wrist, using his other hand to manipulate the remote, which moved the head of the bed a little upright. "Are you okay? How are you feeling? Did he get the nurse?"

"He told me not to." James snapped.

"One question at a time, brother," Jack replied, carefully, both he and Angus ignoring the other man's outburst.

James noted that Dalton had flipped his hand over, now gripping Angus's in a move that he made look completely easy and natural. Just like all the times when he'd witnessed Dalton ruffle the younger man's hair, or toss a protective arm over his shoulder. It occurred to James then that he had not so much as touched his son since their reunion, except in Peru. Jerking the boy to his feet, shaking him…that had been a heated reaction in a moment of fury. The idea of making a purposive tactical connection such as a hug had not occurred to him, but once more he found himself jealous of Dalton and how simple it all seemed for the tough as nails soldier.

"I'm just a little winded, a whole lot sore," Jack continued, blinking again when the adrenaline which had obviously kept him going seemed to be depleting.

"You scared the hell out of me, man. What were you thinking?" Angus ran his free hand through his hair in a nervous gesture, his gaze never leaving Jack's.

"That I should maybe move the nice lady out of the lunatic's line of fire."

To James surprise his son laughed. "Ask a stupid question…"

"Get a stupid answer." Jack finished with a slight groan.

"Maybe we should get your doctor?" When Mac turned to James, it was clear by _we_ he meant him. He was blatantly being dismissed by his son.

"Why don't I go?" James suggested to spare the boy the trouble and another blow to his pride, Angus barely giving a nod before he once more returned his sole focus to Dalton. He didn't even give James a chance to make it to the door before he'd hooked the chair with his foot, drawing it closer before taking a seat. It was obvious that James's job would be finished after summoning the doctor. After all, his son was no longer alone. Jack Dalton was back. G.I. Joe had saved the day from a hospital bed. For not the first time, James wished he'd just listened to Jonah to begin with and gone with damn Navy Seal.

RcJ

"You okay?" Jack asked his partner. He glanced away from the kid in time to see Oversight hesitate at the threshold of his room. The man hadn't cast a look back, although Jack sensed he desperately wanted to and he knew without a doubt that there was a story there. Instead James MacGyver squared his shoulders and strode purposively out the door without another word. Jack had a feeling he wouldn't be dropping back in for a round of farewells and he couldn't find it in himself to be sorry about that. Waking to find his exasperating boss holding bedside vigil was not an experience he wanted to repeat.

"I'm not the one with the wires and drains," Mac answered, trying for a smile and failing. Jack could see the worry in his blue gaze, the tense way he held his body rigid. The kid's gaze went from the chest tube to Jack's face, his grip tightening on Jack's hand. "Are you in pain?"

"Not much," Jack lied. Truth be told, breathing was hell, but he wasn't about to be the cause of putting one more furrow on his partner's brow. "How are you holding up, bud?"

"Well, I expected to be having beer and Twinkies with my partner on the beach right about now, but..." Mac glanced around the room, his voice a bit shaky. "Aside from that I'm a whole lot better since you're awake, big guy. I wasn't so sure that was going to happen."

"That's what you're old man said. I'm sorry." Jack brought his free hand over his stomach once more, hoping his face didn't show how much moving hurt. He watched Mac's expression, searching the features he knew so well for a different kind of torment. "But Oversight kept you company?"

"Matty sent him so I wouldn't be alone." Mac ducked his head once more, his hair blocking Jack's view of any expression. "I don't know what she hoped to accomplish."

"I told you Matilda had a special in with your old man." Jack did his best to bob his brows suggestively when Mac looked up again. He hoped to erase the look of abject misery that was plastered on his partner's face.

"Please don't say that." Mac let go of Jack's hand, giving a half-hearted glower. "I think she was just looking out for me."

"How'd that go?" Jack frowned. He was going to have to talk to their director about her meddling. He knew Matty most likely wanted to help, and he appreciated their boss not allowing Mac to be alone, especially if the worst had happened and he'd kicked the bucket. But he had pushed Mac to make a mends with his father, and seen the disastrous results first hand. Jack's heart might have been in the right place, but he couldn't help thinking he'd made a disastrously wrong move. Recent events in Peru, and the wear they'd had on the kid had him regretting encouraging a father and son reunion in the first place. In fact, sometimes he wished Oversight had stayed out of sight and remained anonymous for all their sakes, but mostly for the kid.

Mac started to open his mouth, but then seemed to flounder. Instead, he surprised Jack by dropping his forehead to rest against his arms which now lay folded on the bed, near Jack's side.

Jack carefully lifted his hand, resting it atop his partner's head, more worried than before. He ran his hand over the mussed blond hair. "What's going on, kiddo?"

Mac kept his head where it was, but gave it a little shake.

"Talk to me." Jack insisted, trying to keep his voice steady.

"I nearly lost it with him," Mac finally confessed. Jack wasn't sure what that would look like since mostly he'd witnessed his partner avoiding his father after the confrontation in the burning science lab had gone so disastrously.

"Why?" Jack ran his fingers over Mac's hair once more before letting his hand come to rest on the mattress. He resisted balling it into a fist when images of James saying all the wrong things to his son, yet again, plagued his imagination. He took a shallow breath, which was all he could manage at the moment and tried for their typical humor. "Don't tell me. He brought up MIT again?"

James had actually sent a memo to his son, encouraging him to take time off to finish his degree after Mac returned to Phoenix, along with a list of other suggestions. All of which may have been well-meaning, but only meant one thing to his son. Mac felt like his father wanted to change him, that he was somehow not enough. It was the curse of sons everywhere-the fear they would always fall short of their father's expectations.

"He brought up Afghanistan." Mac lifted his head, raising up so that he was now resting his chin in his hand. He looked younger than his twenty-five years and more unguarded than Jack had seen him in weeks. Jack wasn't sure if James was to blame or him, considering he'd gotten himself shot and given the kid one hell of a scare he didn't need, especially on the heels of what had happened in Peru.

"Why the hell would he do that?" It was Memoria Day, yes, but Jack didn't see James as the type to wax philosophical or get sentimental. Surely the man wasn't so insensitive to go trampling around Mac's psyche in a hospital waiting room when the kid was already dealing with the fallout from the armed robbery. Then again, for a brilliant agent and a top notch scientist, James had already proven time and again to Jack that he was a fool, and didn't really understand smart strategy or what constituted a combustible formula.

"He wanted to let me know how disappointed he was when I joined up." Mac sat up, bringing his hands into his lap where he proceeded to stare at them.

"Don't take that too hard, bud." Jack licked his lips, pushing himself up slightly in the bed. He hoped to fend off the pull of the drugs he could sense lulling him back to unconsciousness. "The worst argument me and my dad had was over me signing up."

Mac met his gaze, plain old hurt and something worse flashing in his gaze. "Then of course there was the part where he told me how he'd hoped I hadn't come back mentally damaged but my personnel files and then the near panic attack he witnessed out in the waiting room put an end to that …"

"He said that to you?" Jack cut in, the monitors once more picking up his surge of emotion, this time fueled by white hot anger and not fear. His disbelief for James heartlessness drove dreamland off for a bit longer and pushed the nagging pain to the backburner. Every time Jack tried to give the man the benefit of the doubt, he was shocked at how bad Oversight really was at making headway with the kid.

"It's not important what he said." Mac leaned forward again, his anxious gaze going to Jack's face. Guilt was easily recognized as he tried for a smile that in no way fooled Jack. "I shouldn't have mentioned it. Not now. I'm fine… just glad he's gone and that you're okay. That's all that's important."

"There's nothing wrong with you, Mac." Jack bit back on the groan that wanted to escape as his heart pounded hard against his chest and his body demanded he just give into sweet release of oblivion that kept beckoning him. He resisted, determined to wipe the anguished look from his kid's face if it were the last thing he did.

"I appreciate that, Jack, but…"

"No buts, brother. James is an idiot." Jack had tried to keep positive for the kid's sake, even after finding out the whole Oversight saga and reeling at James MacGyver's audacity. He could admit now that perhaps the deep grief he still felt for his own dad colored his judgment-not wanting Mac to suffer a similar loss and having some of the same regrets Jack would always carry. When Mac quit Phoenix and took off for Puerto Rico, Jack had still tried to stay out of it, to keep his real opinions to himself in deference to the belief that every kid needed their dad. He'd apologized profusely for pounding the shit out of the senior MacGyver right in front of Mac, even though he really didn't feel one bit sorry for the beat down considering the man had dared to get physical with his son. No one, and Jack did mean no one, including the guy who ran Phoenix and had all the biological backing, got away with touching his boy.

"But he's still my dad." The look on Mac's face made the statement seem something close to a dire diagnosis or perhaps a death sentence.

"Yep." Jack grit his teeth, hating the truth of the matter for Mac, as well as for his own selfish reasons.

"For better or worse." Mac sighed, looking as discouraged as Jack had seen him. It was just another reason to be pissed at James.

"Look, kiddo, it's easy for some men to become fathers, but not all of them have any idea how to be a dad. That's no reflection on their kids," Jack added, a bit breathlessly. He was feeling lightheaded once more, dark circles dancing just off his peripheral vision, but he was determined to stay awake long enough for Mac to understand. Bullets and bombs weren't the only threats in the big bad world. Villains could turn up anywhere. In your friendly neighborhood convenient store, or from your own front door. It was Jack's job to protect his partner from anything that could make him bleed. "He may have had a hand in giving you life, but that sure as hell doesn't mean he gets to run yours now. He doesn't even get to be a part of it, unless you want him to. I can make sure of that."

"If we stay at Phoenix he has access." Mac rested his hands on the mattress once more, picking at a loose threat on the blanket covering Jack's legs.

"No more than what he had before." Jack would see to it. If not there was always the private security gig in Hawaii. He'd advised Mac to make peace with the past, but that didn't mean he had to embrace a future with his dad. In fact, Jack was pretty sure he didn't want him to. He reached out, with what energy he had left and gripped Mac's wrist, stilling the kid's fidgeting. He waited for his partner to look at him. "The fact he contributed to your genetic makeup doesn't mean he knows a damn think about what you're made up of, son."

"Not like you do," Mac said solemnly.

"Not like I do." Jack agreed just as soberly. When the kid nodded, his eyes bright but nowhere near as lost, Jack felt himself relax. He added, "Hell, not even like the geriatric security guard at Phoenix who still asks for our ID's every damn morning."

This time the attempt at humor earned Jack a hint of dimpled grin for his trouble. Mac snorted. "At least Mr. Sinclair knows not to call me Angus."

Jack relaxed his grip on the kid, giving what he hoped was a wink, although at this point he was having a hard time feeling his face. "If it helps, my old man never once called me Jack."

Mac rolled his eyes, and Jack knew then they both would be just fine. "But Wyatt doesn't make you sound like you were named after a hamburger, just a character from a really bad Western flick."

Jack gave a faint grin, wishing he had the strength for a proper comeback. Instead he made a point to meet his boy's gaze once more. "I'll have you know, I could not love that goofy name more…or the kid who carries it."

The End…for now


	5. Epilogue

Freedom

Epilogue for Warriors

A/N: Because I just needed a little more with the boys and I was home on the Fourth. I hope you enjoy!

RcJ

Five weeks later…

" _Pain is a pesky part of being human. I've learned it feels like a stab wound to the heart, something I wish we could all do without in our lives here. Pain is a sudden hurt that can't be escaped. But then I have also learned that because of pain, I can feel the beauty, tenderness, and freedom of healing. Pain feels like a fast stab wound to the heart. But then healing feels like the wind against your face when you are spreading your wings and flying through the air."-C. JoyBell_

Mac didn't see the Western Diamond Back sunning itself on the rock by the edge of the lake, but he heard it-albeit a second later than Treaty. The horse startled, rearing on her hind legs before Mac had a chance to tighten his hold or react in any way other than falling victim to gravity. So was his life these days.

Only moments before he'd been defying the forces, flying across the open land as sure as if he had wings and the ability to take to the endless blue sky above them, never mind that he was on the back of a thousand pound animal with a will and mind of its own. He and Treaty had just slowed from the breathtaking fast gate that had not only allowed them sweet victory, but had assured Jack-and not Mac-would be doing all the feeding of the animals that evening when she'd decided a much deserved drink from the pristine lake was called for. Enter the unexpected enemy lurking in the shadows.

Mac hit the ground hard, half his body on the grassy bank, half in the water as his horse pranced out of the way miraculously avoiding stomping him. He rolled, praying the snake had been just as frightened of Treaty as she of it and he wouldn't be adding a bite to the disastrous turn his morning had just taken.

"Mac!" Jack's voice thundered from somewhere behind and it was only seconds before Raucous was bounding into the lake, his rider expertly dismounting with a grace that Mac had not yet learned.

Mac had the wind knocked out of him or he'd have assured his partner he was alright. As it was he sort of opened and closed his mouth, floundered a bit like a fish, trying to regain the ability to take in air. The irony was not lost on him. He was sure there was an appropriate metaphor to be found, after all, he'd been struggling to catch his breath since his father's sudden reappearance had tossed him on his ass as sure as Treaty had managed. He was still trying to figure out if Oversight was just another snake in the grass.

"You okay, bud?" Jack was beside him now, boots splashing in the shallow water, hand gripping Mac's shoulder keeping him from moving any further. His touch elicited a calm that Mac needed, a steadying that chased away the feeling of fear and momentary panic that meeting the ground unexpectedly had caused. "Did Treaty throw you?"

The question was voiced with a fair amount of disbelief and incredulity. Mac wasn't sure if he could accredit Jack's astonishment to Treaty, who despite her young age was about as well-broke and well-mannered a horse as The Narrow Path had produced or the fact Mac, despite his initial hesitation of horses, had become a damn good rider.

"Rattler," he managed hoarsely in way of explanation.

"Damn. Did it bite you?" Jack looked momentarily panicked as the hand on Mac's shoulder moved to his neck, gripping tightly. No doubt he was thinking of worst case scenarios and plotting ways to expedite the quickest route to a hospital and how to get Mac the antivenom if it was needed.

"No." Mac shook his head and Jack let out an audible rush of breath. He gave Mac's neck another gentle squeeze before bumping the brim of his cowboy hat back so he could scope the area around them. His hand went to his hip where his gun rested in its holster as he stood to get a better lay of the bank with its tall grass and scattered rocks. He squatted once more by Mac. "Looks like its long gone now. Just us and the bull frogs."

"Good." Mac grimaced, pushing himself up on his elbow. Frogs, turtles and fish he could handle. He hated snakes, especially ones that lay in ambush just waiting for an opportune time to strike. In reality he knew the snake in this case was an innocent bystander. The steel bands around his lungs had loosened some and he let his gaze move past Jack to the horses just beyond, both getting their fill of water. "Is Treaty okay?"

Jack glanced over his shoulder, grinning when his dark gaze found Mac's once more. "Besides wondering why her human took an embarrassing dismount and is now relaxing in the water, I'd say she looks just fine."

Treaty was hock deep in the lake, looking perfectly calm and content as she lifted her head in Mac's direction, tossing it a bit, black tipped ears twitching as if she were agreeing with Jack about the kid's foolishness in falling off her.

"I think she's laughing at me." Mac groaned as he made it to sitting, glad only his legs were in the cold water. Wet underwear was the last thing he wanted to contend with on the long ride back.

"Wouldn't doubt it. Horses can be high and mighty that way." Jack snorted. "You sure you're okay, brother? You ain't hurt none?"

Mac shook his head, grinning slightly at his partner's twang. Jack had quickly reverted to southern vernacular over the month they'd been in Austin. Even Mac had caught himself saying y'all and yonder. "Does my pride count?"

"Nothing that's not broken, protruding or bleeding is on my radar at the moment." Jack kept his eyes on Mac and the younger man recognized the genuine concern that his partner was covering with his light tone and typical banter. It had a wave of guilt rushing through Mac. His best friend had done his fair share of worrying since James MacGyver had shown up. He also realized the older man's bullshit detector was no doubt on full alert and Mac knew better than to lie.

"I think we're good. I'm more embarrassed than hurt." Mac extended a hand to his best friend. He couldn't help the grimace that came with moving, his body starting to acknowledge the fact he'd just taken a hard fall and promising it would be more than his ego bruised. "Help me up."

"You sure? That looked like a hell of a spill from where I sat." Jack frowned, tilting his head.

"Really. How'd you see anything through all that dust you were eating?" When Jack frowned at the attempted redirect Mac sighed. "I'm good," he assured wanting to get out of the lake, even though he had looked forward to the promise of the cool water during the romp over the countryside. The sun hadn't been up more than an hour or so, but the Texas heat was already promising to outdo the record it broke yesterday. "Come on, Jack. The vultures are already circling."

Jack laughed, but did as asked, not even addressing Mac's slam about his lackluster performance in the race. He lifted Mac with a strength and gentleness that Mac had come to rely on. It seemed his partner had become accustomed to picking him up both literally as well as metaphorically. Over the past months, he'd been a rock as well as a soft place for Mac to land.

"Let me do the work, cowboy." Once Mac was on his feet, Jack pulled an arm over his shoulder and carefully walked them towards the small dock that jutted from a stand of trees. There was an old rope swing that hung from one of the thickest branches and more than a few nights over the last month he and Jack had put it to good use, swimming after a long day's work with JP. Mac hoped they'd come back later and he'd show the lake who was the boss.

Jack eased Mac into one of the old Adirondack chairs, pulling another close so he could take a seat in front of him. "You really are bound and determined to give me a full head of gray hair on this trip, aren't you?"

"I'm pretty sure you're never again going to have a full head of any hair color, dude." Mac flashed his partner a smirk as the older man perched on the edge of the other chair. "Good thing you look good in a Stetson."

"You're funny." Jack leaned forward, nodding towards the hand Mac had unconsciously drawn close to his chest in a protective manner. "Your wrist hurt?" His voice gentled and Mac couldn't help but to think of the many times he'd watched his partner work with skittish or frightened stock over the last weeks. He felt color rise to his cheeks, sheepish that he'd once again found himself in need of a rescue and rehabilitation.

"Maybe." Mac flexed the limb in question. He'd probably caught himself with it when he'd hit the ground. It hurt, but he could still move it and feel all his fingers. "Possibly a sprain."

"Convenient how that might get you out of your share of work this afternoon before all the festivities tomorrow." Jack feigned exasperation. His eye rolling doing little to belay the flash of regret Mac caught. Sometimes he thought Jack felt he should have been able to prevent any little mishap that might befall the younger man, as well as foreseeing and derailing all big disasters-like an absentee father showing up to turn the world upside down and inside out.

Mac deliberately let go of his wrist, letting it rest in his lap. He smirked at Jack. "I already got myself out of that by beating you to the finish line, old man."

"I think Treaty did most of the work, kid, and I'm not sure but I believe falling out of the saddle might disqualify a man from winning a horse race."

"I didn't fall out of the saddle," Mac snapped, his stubborn pride rearing it's head. He might not have instantly taken to horseback riding but he prided himself on the fact he'd picked it up easier than most. JP and Jack had both given him pointers and although he might not have been a Dalton by blood, but he'd been bound and determined not to embarrass the family name. "I told you Treaty reared up when the snake rattled a warning. The same thing could have happened to you. I was caught off guard, that's all."

"I suppose a good dousing is about what you deserve for gloating over your stolen victory." Jack took Mac's hand in his, despite the reassurances as to its wholeness. He turned it over, running fingers along the bones on each side. Jack glanced up to watch for Mac's reaction, which Mac made a concentrated effort to school. "It's a poor man who takes advantage of his best friend's weaknesses like you did. I was holding back, you know. I'm still recovering from recent surgery."

"As if I could forget." Mac rolled his eyes. Jack had a tendency to play up his injuries when it suited him, as in any time JP had pointed out some new project for the boys to tackle during their sabbatical at the ranch or when he wanted Nana Beth to cook one of his favorite meals. Then there was the audacious show he put on for the lovely ladies at his favorite bar in town. Mac gave his partner a pointed look. "In fact, I know your surgery was precisely five weeks and two days ago. I have your discharge papers. The doctor gave you clearance to return to regular activity after four weeks."

"I think his exact words were four to six weeks." Jack seemed satisfied there was nothing broken in Mac's wrist, letting the younger man tug it free of his grasp. He shrugged. "At least that's what I told Matty when I asked for leave to come to Austin. Figured we might as well enjoy the Fourth while we were here."

"You never did tell me what you held over her head to get her to agree to me taking the time off as well." Jack typically balked at forced leave, preferring to stay in the field. He was worse than Mac when it came to being a model patient and Mac suspected his best friend had seen the fact he'd been shot as an opportunity to offer Mac a way to get away for a much needed break especially since his attempt to runaway to Puerto Rico had ended in disaster.

"It's not like you were going to be in rotation without me, not with our team fractured like it is." Jack folded his arms over his chest, kicking his feet out, obviously not willing to cop to any blackmail or guilt tactics he'd used with his former CIA handler. "I think she recognized that maybe we all needed a bit of a breather after Peru. That maybe trying to carry on like nothing had happened wasn't exactly the best tactic-especially with a new member coming on board and Riley taking some time away. Leanna needs a training period and Bozer was up for the task."

"Riley's working with the Colton's not basking on a beach, Jack."

"I know that." Jack's frown deepened. "With my blessing." At Mac's raised brow the older man sighed. "Okay, so maybe it took me a while to get used to the idea that she needed to spread her wings a bit. I mean Phoenix wasn't exactly her idea in the first place and she deserves a chance to explore her options without the promise of prison hanging over her head."

Mac grinned at his partner parroted his words back to him. Mac hadn't wanted Riley to leave their team either, but he understood better than anyone that sometimes space to breathe was called for, that change happened and sometimes those changes meant a goodbye was in the works. He could only hope it was temporary. Matty had been the one to purpose the leave of absence, effectively holding Riley's place at Phoenix but also giving her the freedom to see what else was out there for her. It kept a bit of hope alive that she might return.

"Don't look so smug." Jack pointed a finger at Mac. "It's not like I wouldn't have come around eventually. I just don't like the idea of not being able to watch her back."

"I think Billy and the other Coltons are more than capable."

"Yeah, well, it's a good thing, too, because it seems I have my hands more than full with you." Jack turned the tables once again. Mac rolled his shoulders, tentatively stretching side to side as his partner continued his lament. "Between taking a tumble out of the top of barns and getting thrown from horses, not to mention wrapping yourself up in barbed wire, I can't spare anytime to be worrying about Riley's new dream of bounty hunting."

"I had one cut from the barb wire. One that didn't warrant the dressing down you gave Miguel I might add. He hasn't asked me back out on his crew since." Mac didn't dare glance at his arm, where the stitches barely showed beneath his sleeve, instead bending to remove his one wet cowboy boot, dumping a cup full of water out before placing it beside him. He was sure the few sutures in his shoulder had held and if not they were due to come out in a couple of days. "And I didn't fall out of the top of the barn, it was a lower beam, which was mostly your fault for yelling at me to be careful in the first place. I landed in a pile of hay. No harm, no foul."

"Excuse me for trying to keep you in one piece. All I'm saying is I didn't bring you here to add more scars to you and extra worry lines to my handsome mug." Jack kicked Mac's socked foot.

"Why did you bring me here?" The question came out sharper than Mac meant and he ducked his head before Jack could catch his eye. It wasn't like he didn't know the answer. Jack was trying to make up for what he perceived his less than stellar record of keeping Mac perfectly safe. Narrow Path had been the first place Jack brought Mac after their return from Afghanistan, when he'd also been helpless to help the younger man. They'd stayed for a good month. When Nikki had supposedly been killed, they'd come back for an even longer stay after Mac's bullet wound had gotten infected. Now, here they were again. The commonality wasn't lost on Mac. He'd been out of sorts after returning from the desert, his head in a dark space. He'd been broken, emotionally and physically after watching Nikki be shot and taking a bullet himself. And now…now Mac was angry and hurt, battling not only familiar demons, but new insecurities all thanks to his father.

"Coming home always works for me when I've completely lost my bearings." Jack didn't seem offended by his partner's complete lack of appreciation. Instead he leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees. He looked at Mac from beneath the brim of his cowboy hat. "I wanted you to have a chance to catch your breath, bud, let some of those old wounds that got tore open over the last little while heal up. I also figured putting some meat on your bones with Nana Beth's cooking couldn't hurt none, either."

"You're the one who was hurt, Jack." Mac swallowed back another wave of guilt, knowing that Peru was his fault. Jack had suffered at Jonah Walsh's hands all because the man wanted James MacGyver's attention and help, as well as a bit of revenge. He'd then been shot on Memorial Day and nearly died. Yet, Mac was still Jack's priority. It was simultaneously infuriating, humbling and equally frustrating.

"Our bodies heal really quickly, kid. Even this old one of mine. Our hearts take a bit longer-even one as guarded as yours." Jack looked out over the lake, to the horses who had moved from the water but were grazing on the grasses at its edge. "A change of scenery is good for the spirit, especially here in God's country. Horses and whiskey don't hurt none neither."

"Distance from my dad helps as well." Mac rubbed at his throbbing wrist, his thoughts drifting to the phone call he'd gotten a few days before. James had asked to come see him, hoping to spend the 4th together. In Texas. It seemed he wanted to meet JP and Beth, get a picture of the one part of Mac's life he hadn't been able to manipulate, aside from the fact he'd apparently arranged for Jack and Mac to work together in Afghanistan.

Jack returned his eyes to Mac, his face grim. "I might have had that thought myself after what happened at the hospital. James can't seem to help himself when it comes to making matters worse."

"He wants to come here." Mac sighed. "Tomorrow."

"JP told me." Jack removed his cowboy hat, slid a hand over his hair. "He said you talked to him about it the other night."

"I wouldn't say I talked too much." Mac shrugged. JP had found him grooming Treaty missing the nightly poker game at the bunk house. The older man had guessed by the way the horse's coat gleamed and her mane was curried that he'd been at it a good while. Mac might have even tried his braiding skills on her tail. His mouth twitched. "More like JP was hiding from Nana Beth in the barn to smoke one of his banned cigars and decided to impart some sage advice while he was at it. I nodded contritely when he gave me the eye between stories."

Jack laughed. "I hear that, brother."

"I now know where you get your 'your father won't be around forever' speech." Mac had always suspected Jack had inherited his way with words from his grandfather. Both Dalton men, although tough as nails and no nonsense for all appearances sake, could deliver a heartfelt conversation at the drop of the proverbial Cowboy hat. What they lacked in minding their own business, they more than made up for with sincere and heartfelt determination to ease whatever ills were causing the person they cared for to suffer.

"He learned that one the hard way, not only with his own daddy, who was a mean drunk who probably didn't deserve his forgiveness, but mine as well. He and my father didn't exactly see eye to eye when it came to Jack Senior's choice of careers or dragging his family all over the country from one air base to another." Jack fiddled with the brim of his worn Stetson. "He's the one who convinced me not to make the same mistakes, and I'm forever grateful he did, kid. We both know I didn't have near the time I thought I would with my daddy. No one, me least of all, wants to see you suffer the fate of not being able to say what needs to be said before it's too late. That kind of regret is a hard thing to carry around."

"So, you think I should let James come here?" Mac couldn't entirely wrap his mind around the idea of Oversight fraternizing with Jack's family, _his_ family. Beth would be welcoming of course, no doubt charming and gracious as her southern roots and good raising demanded. JP would be upstanding and fair, quick to share his coveted cigars and Irish whiskey, as well as countless stories about the ranch and the horses he raised there. But he'd also overheard Jack talking with his grandparents the first night they arrived, when they thought Mac already upstairs sound asleep. When Jack had told them what bits and pieces he could without divulging classified information, Beth had noted how her great, great grandmother had a special recipe for an irresistible muffin that would assure a woman not need be afraid of a no good, heartless, heavy-handed husband. It called for fresh raspberry, white chocolate, as well as belladonna and a touch of rat poison. JP had pointed out that a man could easily take a fall from a horse when riding the range, and that the buzzards could pick a body clean within a few days, the coyotes finishing anything they might leave for nosy lawmen. It had been oddly comforting to know that someone besides Jack was willing to go to extremes to protect him. In fact, Mac had slept well that night, knowing he was safe and sound. Mac met Jack's gaze. "Like you said, this is your home."

"It's your home, too, bud. Just ask Nana Beth how many grandsons she has if you don't believe me. Or talk to JP about his decision to give you Treaty, with her being the last of the line of the stock he started this ranch with. I know exactly what they'd say. Which is why you need to make the call about your old man coming here." Jack set his hat back on his head, glancing up at the clear blue sky overhead. He blew out a huff of air and Mac knew it wasn't as simple as he made it sound. "We both know I might have my own selfish reasons for not wanting your daddy here or anywhere near you for that matter and only a few of them have to do with what's best for you, or protecting your interests."

"He's your boss. It might be weird." Mac knew Jack had invited Matty to come to the big cook out tomorrow along with the rest of the team, but Matty and Jack had history that went far beyond simple colleagues.

"It's cute you think that's the reason." Jack glanced at Mac, his mouth twitching. They both understood Jack wasn't hesitant because of a conflict of interest, at least not the professional kind. "Work colliding with my personal life has never really been a problem for me, bud. Hell, the lines of family have always blurred. I'm not the best at keeping boundaries. The truth is as much as I pushed you to track down your father, I never really considered what you having a dad in your life might look like. It's been hard enough watching Riley bond with Elwood. Don't get me wrong. I want that old leopard to change his spots because as much as I hate to admit it, he's kind of grown on me, and I know his girl loves him. I'm glad Ri's happy and working on things with Elwood, but I'm not sure how I'll handle giving up all my helicopter parenting rights. Not when it comes to you and James, anyway. You're different."

"Jack, that's not…" Mac started only to have his best friend raise a hand to cut him off.

"Just let me get this off my chest, kid. I've been meaning to say it since Peru, but then I went and got myself shot and the time never seemed right."

Mac wanted to butt in, to tell his partner that he didn't have to say anything because there was no way that James MacGyver could ever come close to being the man that Jack was, the brother who'd watched over Mac since he was nineteen, the protector who'd sacrificed to get him out of the Army in one piece, the same pseudo father who had stayed by his side day in and day out in the most dangerous of situations for the last seven years without a lot of gratitude for his dedication and stalwart faithfulness. But something stopped him. Maybe it was the earnestness in the other man's eyes or maybe the reasoning was deeper, a need to hear what Jack had to say, if only to make himself feel better.

"On my most selfish days, I think about just letting you keep on holding a grudge against that bastard, James. He'd deserve it after all, and I wouldn't have to worry about the next way he was going to screw you over. I wasn't kidding when I said the man doesn't deserve to breathe the same air as you, but then I think about what JP always says about forgiveness, how it's a prison and punishment not for the person who did the wrong, but a cage for the guy that can't seem to do the forgiving. I can't stomach the idea of you ever being anything but whole and free. So, if inviting Oversight to a family barbecue is the first step in bringing you that peace, some healing, then I'll gladly step aside and welcome him home. Hell, I'll even grill him up a burger and offer him a cold beer while I'm at it."

"But I'm not even sure why he wants to come." Mac swallowed hard, the words Jack had said bringing reassurances of his best friend's loyalty and commitment, but just as many questions as to his father's motives. It seemed too simplistic for such a complex man that he merely held an interest for what was important to Mac. And even if he did, such a small act could never make up for all the years he missed, all the things he'd cost his son.

"Maybe it's more about his willingness to make the trip, to take a step despite the end game." Jack nodded, thoughtfully. "And I'm not just talking about the trouble of scoring a flight to Austin or coming somewhere he has to understand he's not exactly welcomed. Just between you and me, brother because it would break Beth and JP's heart if they knew. I've asked my mom to come to every shindig Nana Beth has thrown since my daddy died, even sending her a plane ticket a time or two at Christmas and Thanksgiving, and she's not once accepted an invite, nor did she bother with an excuse as to why she wasn't going to show."

Mac blinked, understanding what his best friend was trying to impart, but still unable to fully accept his dad might be merely reaching out. "What if he has some kind of ulterior motive? What if this is just another way to manipulate me or the people around me? What if he wants something I'm not willing to give?"

"Then I'll finish what I started in Peru. The man's not hurting you, kid. I will see him in the ground before I let that happen again." Jack was completely serious. He held Mac's gaze. "But what if he just wants another chance to get to know his son."

"He's the one who walked away. Not me." Mac folded his arms over his chest, knowing he was being a bit petulant, but not able to help himself. It wasn't like Jack was going to judge him. In fact, Jack would be the first to tell him to feel however the hell he was feeling and to stop trying to compartmentalize everything away in neat boxes. "Why should I even bother to make accommodations?"

"Because Nana Beth says a man never regrets showing unmerited kindness or giving undeserved grace." Jack slapped Mac on the leg. "We both know she's a whole hell of a lot smarter than either of us. Besides, she's got Jesus on her side."

"I guess you're right," Mac said after a long moment. He huffed, running a hand through his hair. "Besides, there's always the coyotes."

"What?" Jack laughed.

"Never mind." Mac grumbled.

"Alrighty, then. If your pride's up to it, let's head on back." Jack grinned, reaching out and grabbing Mac's wet boot. He turned it upside down, emptying it of any leftover lake water before handing it to him. "We don't want JP to eat all the bacon and we should probably ice that wrist before Beth puts us to work on decking out the guest rooms. She has a whole chart. Riley and Leanna are bunking with crazy Aunt Gert."

"I'm sure Riley will appreciate that." Mac snorted, glad he had his own room. Jack might snore but Gert was fond of pinching his cheeks, and not just the ones on his face.

"Hey, you know how Nana feels about the marital bed." Jack shrugged, but Mac didn't miss the gleeful glint in his eye. "Unless the lovebirds took a detour to Vegas on their way here and Colton puts a ring on it, he's bunking with Bozer up in the attic."

"I think I'll let you fill everyone in on the sleeping arrangements and just so we're clear, heartfelt talk aside, I'm still not helping you with the feeding tonight." Mac said, pulling his boot on as Jack stood and offered him a hand up. "Treaty and I won the race fair and square, despite my unexpected dismount."

Jack gave him a grin. "Speaking of the fair Treaty, looks like she's trying to make a mends for tossing you in the lake." Jack gestured to the two horses who were approaching the dock, apparently satiated and ready for another ride. Treaty had a familiar looking Stetson gripped between her teeth.

"Hey! My hat." Mac stepped forward to take the Stetson from his horse, just now realizing he'd lost it in the fall. He gave a shake of his head when Treaty dropped it at his feet with a soft blow and snort, as if to add insult to injury.

"She's obviously forgiven you for making a fool of yourself." Jack reached out and took Raucous's reigns, the big gelding nudging his shoulder affectionately.

"Forgiven _me_? Shouldn't that be the other way around?" Mac ran his hand over the blaze on Treaty's broad head, pretty sure his backside would not be allowing him to forget the indiscretion anytime soon despite his horse's soulful brown eyes and sweet disposition. She lipped at his shirt pocket as if she was deserving the sugar cubes she knew Mac kept hidden away. Mac shook his head. "I was the one thrown on the ground and nearly snake bit."

"All bets are off when it comes to horses and women, brother. The sky can be green and the grass blue as blue can be." Jack dipped down to scoop Mac's hat up. He tossed an arm around the kid's shoulders and pulled him in for a hard side hug as he shoved the Stetson onto his head. "Which reminds me, if Nana Beth offers your daddy any homemade raspberry muffins I'd suggest he turn them down."

Mac laughed, bumping his hat up and away from his eyes. He could feel the warm sun on his shoulders, smell the earthy scent of the lathered horses. He was still smarting from the recent falls, but home was a balm sure to ease his suffering and Jack was at his side. Even a visit from James MacGyver couldn't change that. If nothing else, Mac thought, the fireworks at The Narrow Path ranch would at least be extra interesting.

The End…for now.

Seriously.


End file.
